The Faintest Kiss
by Assonant
Summary: Soul: a part of humans spirits and morals. Dementors take this when they fully Kiss a victim. But what happens when someone isn't fully Kissed? Harry would find this dilemma of his worrying except he doesn't exactly care about right or wrong anymore...
1. Chapter 1

Fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter- a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time with jeans that were torn and dirty, a t-shirt that was baggy and faded, and the soles of trainers that were peeling away from the uppers- vaulted over the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass. The park was as empty as the surrounding streets.

When Harry reached the swings he sank onto the only one that his cousin, one Dudley Dursley, and his friends had not yet managed to break, coiled one arm around the chain and stared moodily at the ground. He would not be able to hide in the Dursleys' flowerbed again.

Tomorrow, he would have to think of some fresh way of listening to the news. In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped the nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake. Often the old scar on his forehead prickled uncomfortably, but he did not fool himself that Ron or Hermione or Sirius would find that very interesting any more.

In the past, his scar hurting had warned that Voldemort was getting stronger again, but now that Voldemort was back they would probably remind him that its regular irritation was only to be expected… nothing to worry about… old news…

The injustice of it all welled up inside him so that he wanted to yell with fury. If it hadn't been for him, nobody would even have known Voldemort was back! And his reward was to be stuck in Little Whinging for four solid weeks, completely cut off from the magical world, reduced to squatting among dying begonias so that he could hear about water-skiing budgerigars! How could Dumbledore have forgotten him so easily? Why had Ron and Hermione got together without inviting him along, too? How much longer was he supposed to endure Sirius telling him to sit tight and be a good boy; or resist the temptation to write to the stupid Daily Prophet and point out that Voldemort had returned? These furious thoughts whirled around in Harry's head, and his insides writhed with anger as a sultry, velvety night fell around him, the air full of the smell of warm, dry grass, and the only sound that of the low grumble of traffic on the road beyond the park railings.

He did not know how long he had sat on the swing before the sound of voices interrupted his musings and he looked up. The streetlights from the surrounding roads were casting a misty glow strong enough to silhouette a group of people making their way across the park. One of them was singing a loud, crude song. The others were laughing. A soft ticking noise came from several expensive racing bikes that they were wheeling along.

Harry knew who those people were. The figure in front was unmistakably his cousin on his way home, accompanied by his faithful gang.

Dudley was as vast as ever, but a year's hard dieting and the discovery of a new talent had wrought quite a change in his physique. As Uncle Vernon delightedly told anyone who would listen, Dudley had recently become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast. 'The noble sport', as Uncle Vernon called it, had made Dudley even more formidable than he had seemed to Harry in their primary school days when he had served as Dudley's first punching bag. Harry was not remotely afraid of his cousin any more but he still didn't think that Dudley learning to punch harder and more accurately was cause for celebration. Neighborhood children all around were terrified of him - even more terrified than they were of 'that Potter boy' who, they had been warned, was a hardened hooligan and attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Harry watched the dark figures crossing the grass and wondered who they had been beating up tonight. _Look round,_ Harry found himself thinking as he watched them. _Come on… look round… I'm sitting here all alone… come and have a go…_

If Dudley's friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn't want to lose face in front of the gang, but he'd be terrified of provoking Harry… it would be really fun to watch Dudley's dilemma, to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond… and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, he was ready - he had his wand. Let them try… he'd love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell.

As if reading his thoughts, Malcolm turned and saw him. "Well look here. It's Potty!"

Laughter broke out as they approached. Harry could see a muscle twitching in Dudley's jaw. He looked acutely uncomfortable.

"Just like old times, eh?" Piers said, smirking as they surrounded Harry.

He just smirked and put his hand in his pocket for his wand, but couldn't grab it since someone had just swept his legs out from under him.

Those jerks. He growled low in his throat as he looked up at them. "What do you want?" Harry snarled, glaring at them.

"Aw, he thinks he's a big man because he goes to St. Brutus's," Gordon said, scoffing.

Harry grabbed his wand.

"Oh, look, a stick," Malcolm said.

They all laughed, except Dudley, who looked very nervous now. He knew the rules of Hogwarts, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care at this moment.

Before Harry could do anything about his cousin's gang, Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water.

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and light-less - the stars, the moon, the misty streetlights at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.

For a split second Harry thought he had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that he'd been resisting as hard as he could - then his reason caught up with his senses - he didn't have the power to turn off the stars. He turned his head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes like a weightless veil.

"Dud, what's going on?" Malcolm asked.

"I can't see," Piers complained.

Dudley's terrified voice broke in Harry's ear.

"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I -"

"I said shut up!"

Harry stood stock still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense he was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up - he opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.

It was impossible… they couldn't be here… not in Little Whinging… he strained his ears… he would hear them before he saw them…

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do—?"

"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed, "I'm trying to lis —"

But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading.

There was something in the playground apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air.

"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Dudley, shut—"

WHAM.

A fist made contact with the side of Harry's head, lifting him off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. For the second time in an hour Harry felt as though his head had been cleaved in two; next moment, he had landed hard on the ground and his wand had flown out of his hand.

"You moron, Dudley!" Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain as he scrambled to his hands and knees, feeling around frantically in the blackness. He heard the others blundering away, hitting the fence, stumbling.

"COME BACK! YOU IDIOTS ARE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

There was a horrible squealing yell and the other footsteps stopped. At the same moment, Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could mean only one thing. There was more than one.

"ALL OF YOU, KEEP YOUR MOUTHS SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTHS SHUT! Wand!" Harry muttered frantically, his hands flying over the ground like spiders. "Where's - wand -come on -_lumos_!"

He said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help him in his search - and to his disbelieving relief, light flared inches from his right hand - the wand tip had ignited. Harry snatched it up, scrambled to his feet and turned around.

His stomach turned over.

A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came.

Stumbling backwards, Harry raised his wand.

_"__Expecto patronum!"_

A silvery wisp of vapor shot from the tip of the wand and the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly; tripping over his own feet, Harry retreated further as the Dementor bore down upon him, panic fogging his brain -concentrate –

He tripped over Gordon, but a pair of gray, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementor's robes and caught him. A rushing noise filled Harry's ears and something slammed onto his lips, forcing his mouth open, something slamming itself into his mouth, wet and cold, and it reminded Harry very much of an octopus tentacle.

_Cold_. Harry felt numb from the inside out and it was as if his life was being shown to him like a movie.

Who would have thought his first and only kiss would be from a Dementor?

Perhaps it was this thought or perhaps it was just Harry's innate stubbornness, but it led to another thought: No.

He would not be weaker than this thing. He kicked with all his might and the Dementor backed away a tiny amount.

It was enough.

_"__EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

An enormous silver stag erupted from the tip of Harry's wand; its antlers caught the Dementor in the place where the heart should have been; it was thrown backwards, weightless as darkness, and as the stag charged, the Dementor swooped away, bat-like and defeated.

The other Dementor was on top of Dudley, the other members of his gang on the ground. The patronus's silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and, like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness; the stag cantered around the playground and dissolved into silver mist.

Moon, stars and streetlights burst back into life. A warm breeze swept the playground. Trees rustled in nearby gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again.

Harry looked around at the bodies around him, the bodies of his cousin's gang and his cousin. Kissed, the lot of them.

He couldn't bring himself to care. In fact, he could quite vividly recall how they had treated him all of his life.

But... he felt odd. As if he should have felt something, anything, about this besides a sense of irony. Yet he couldn't help the thought; Dementors, something he considered the foulest things on earth, had gotten revenge for him. Perhaps he should reassess his view of the creatures. That thought in his mind, Harry left the playground and walked to 4 Privet Drive.

The hall light was on. Harry stuck his wand back inside the waistband of his jeans, rang the bell and watched Aunt Petunia's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass in the front door.

"Oh, it's you," she said, giving him a disdainful look and allowing him in. Harry rolled his eyes and went to his room and closed the door. He went to let Hedwig out for the night when a screech owl swooped in through the window. It dropped the large parchment envelope it was carrying in its beak at Harry's feet, turned gracefully, then zoomed outside again and off across the garden.

Harry opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. Probably yelling at him about underage magic.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_  
_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle._  
_The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._  
_As you have already received an official warning for a previous offense under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 am. on the twelfth of August._  
_Hoping you are well,_  
_Yours sincerely,_  
_Mafalda Hopkirk_  
_Improper Use of Magic Office_  
_Ministry of Magic_

Harry read the letter through twice and raised an eyebrow. He was expelled from Hogwarts. It was all over. He was never going back.

He should, he realized, care more about this fact. But he didn't. He read the letter once more and the same line stood out.

_Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand_.

Harry shook his head. Destroy his wand? He'd like to see them try. At the same time, it would be annoying, having to think about all the neighbors and the like. Harry grabbed his money, his cloak, and his broom, tossing some clothes into his schoolbag. He put on the cloak and was gone through his window almost instinctively.

Where he was going or what he would do, Harry didn't know.

But he didn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

The night wind rushed by him as he flew. He didn't see any wizards or witches from the Ministry, but if he had it wouldn't have mattered. He had faced Voldemort before and survived. Harry was confident he would be able to handle any Ministry peon.

It would have been a balmy, warm night, but the fact that he was so high up and moving so fast kept him cool.

But he would need a plan.

He would need to evaluate, assess and then act.

First, he would need a place for the night. His eyes, honed from hunting for Seekers, and his instincts, honed from dodging bullies and life-threatening things, caught a glimpse of a well hidden structure in a tree... and the house closest to it was for sale. Perfect.

Silent as an owl, which made him think of Hedwig, Harry flew into the treehouse. As if his entrance were a cue, Harry saw his familiar snowy owl and smiled. His first friend had made sure he hadn't left her behind and had followed. Harry just hoped others wouldn't get the same idea.

He kept the cloak on and the broom close as he lay on his back, facing the ceiling of the treehouse, one hand on his wand, the other gently petting his owl. Most people would have gone into the house, Harry was sure, but that was what he was avoiding, acting like most people. The treehouse had one entryway and tiny windows too small for even Hedwig. It was mostly covered by the branches and leaves of the trees around it.

The future of a group of boys was, for all intents and purposes, gone now. One boy that he was related to. And Harry didn't care.

In fact, he didn't even care that he had almost been kissed, that he had been expelled from Hogwarts.

Wasn't that strange?

He did, however, feel a bit sick at the thought of being like Hagrid. Why would someone allow the Ministry to snap their wand? Hagrid was half-giant. He could have easily fought back.

Harry would not waste his life tending the grounds at Hogwarts, watching people study magic and damned to not do so himself. The idea was laughable.

He could hear his two friends already, lecturing him.

Suddenly, Harry had the urge to hex them, to hex Dumbledore who had forgotten him and Sirius, his godfather. Ron and Hermione were together and had not been attacked by dementors. Busy, they had said they were, but not telling him with what. Sirius had just kept telling him to be a good boy.

What had that gotten him?

Be a good boy, lay low, don't attract attention. And yet he did anyway. He was the boy who lived, and yet the newspapers seemed to ignore him when he had said Voldemort had returned. He had done nothing but try his best for the magical world.

His reward? Slander. Being ignored. Left behind. Almost kissed by a Dementor.

_Definitely an unforgettable first kiss..._

Right, enough of those thoughts. It was a Dementor. Cold and dark, one of the foulest creatures in existence.

Yet it was a Dementor had gotten rid of the boys that had once made Harry's life hell.

Nobody else had done that. The Dursleys had still mistreated Harry. They had locked him in a room and tried to starve him, had invited that... foul woman, Marge, had only allowed him to leave due to threats. So no, his friends and allies and those he respected had never helped.

In fact, while he was thinking about it, where had they been before? He was famous. Sirius had been in Azkaban, understandable why he couldn't do anything. But Lupin? Dumbledore? Any one of the people who gawped at his scar, who had shaken his hand over the years and bowed to him?

Harry felt as if scales had fallen from his eyes, as if he could finally _see._ What had happened to his logic over the years?

He had been useful as a child hero, someone to pin hopes on, but as a flesh and blood person? Just an annoyance, someone to protect or whisper about. A celebrity, whose life had to be under a microscope and followed by the paparazzi.

Why hadn't anyone tried to stop Rita Skeeter except Hermione? Harry had been fourteen, a minor, and so was Hermione. Why had that woman been allowed to slander them so?

A gentle nip of his fingers brought him immediately from his thoughts and sitting up. Hedwig was puffed up, a warning to him. She got the same way, Harry knew, when his lovely family was nearby and he didn't know it.

An owl zoomed through the entrance like a feathery cannon-ball and landed with a clatter floor of the treehouse.

"_Stupefy,"_ Harry said immediately, causing the owl to drop instantly. He wouldn't let the thing report where it had seen him. _"Oblivate."_ With that, he tossed the owl out of the little treehouse and opened the official-looking

envelope.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Further to our letter of approximately four hours and twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. Our apologies for the warning issued. A team sent to your area has determined that your use of the Patronus charm was justified.  
With best wishes,  
Yours sincerely,  
Mafalda Hopkirk  
Improper Use of Magic Office  
Ministry of Magi_c

Harry stared at this for a few seconds, before he ripped it while remembering his summer thus far. No news, by himself and a target for bullies and now things would be worse due to what happened to his cousin.

He was not a fool. He knew his aunt and uncle would blame that fat lump of a cousin's condition on him, therefore returning to Privet Drive was not an option. He briefly thought about apologizing to Sirius, but Harry found he didn't really care what a man that hardly knew him thought.

Because, thinking about it, how well _did_ any of those he thought of as friends know him? Perhaps Hermione could be viewed as knowing him best, since she alone of the people Harry knew tried to actually look out for him even if he had been stupid about it. Who else would have suspected a broomstick? Had she not been right?

Except she was a believer in authority. And authority, as Harry knew from his experience with the Ministry of Magic, was not always right.

So although Hermione Granger had tried to know him and the like, it would not be wise to contact her. It was obvious she and Ron were together this summer and had told him nothing regarding their activities.

Ronald Weasley obviously did not know him. Last year's fiasco after the Goblet of Fire showed that much. Harry felt a bit bewildered by how stupid he was. At least others like Neville Longbottom kept doubts to themselves and kept a solid front of belief in Harry around him and others. Ron Weasley had not. Interesting for being his supposed best friend.

So no, contacting him would not be wise either.

Sirius Black? What could someone that could not even prove his own innocence do for Harry? The same problem for Remus Lupin: he had run rather than accept that some people would not want a werewolf to teach their children. Harry did not desire to have such weaknesses when his age already made him a liability. So then what?

_The best place to find a helping hand is at the end of your own arm._

One of his primary school teachers had said that.

It was wise.

Harry would work alone-a nip at his fingers made him glance over. Very well, not completely alone. A boy and his owl, they were.

Where to begin?

_Don't stay in one place. Easier to find._ Harry knew that was wise. _Use what you know._ He was many things, but not foolish. The magical world had strengths, but it had weaknesses. Harry had a distinct advantage. He knew both worlds.

He would use all of his knowledge. So he needed a way to get to Gringotts for money without being seen. He was sure, for some reason, people would be after him.

_Speed and removing obstacles._.. wait, that was it. Speed. He would be the first person at the bank. Sleep on the steps with the cloak, plenty of people slept outside. Harry grabbed his broom and was off again.

But even as he flew, even as his mind was calculating the path ahead and what to do, another aspect still thought about that dementor.

It had done what no one else had.

Those Harry had associated with just talked. Dementors acted on their nature. Voldemort acted. Those that everyone was afraid of acted without care and look at them. Able to get what they wanted from fear.

Harry had read Machiavelli, when he had been young and hiding away from the now soulless boys. He remembered the book, and a bit in particular:

_Nevertheless a prince ought to inspire fear in such a way that, if he does not win love, he avoids hatred; because he can endure very well being feared whilst he is not hated, which will always be as long as he abstains from the property of his citizens and subjects and from their women. But when it is necessary for him to proceed against the life of someone, he must do it on proper justification and for manifest cause, but above all things he must keep his hands off the property of others, because men more quickly forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony._

Harry would not talk. Harry would act and he would do it with proper justification. Those that had killed and hurt him and others would be his targets. And since those he had associated with only talked, Harry knew they would only hinder him.

_When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things._ Harry didn't remember where he had heard that, but it was sound advice and he would do that now. Let those of the past, those that acted like fools and children, talk. He would not. He would _act._

Funding first. And just as he needed funds, he knew Voldemort did. Finding the Malfoys would be simple. And then...

Harry just smiled.

If anyone had been able to see under his cloak, however, they would have said his smile looked like a sickle.


	3. Chapter 3

Diagon Alley was pathetically empty when morning arrived. Harry had spent the night flying and standing in an alcove of the Alley. As soon as the bank opened, he went through the doors. No witches or wizards were around, only goblins. He took off his cloak and presented the bank teller with his key.

It was a quick ride to his vault and the goblins asked no questions. Harry took out a huge amount, not even really looking as he shoveled it in. He had half of it converted into Muggle money when he returned to the main floor. He had about £8000 and a fair bit of magical money when he left the bank. His cloak back on, Harry went to Knockturn Alley.

Harry entered Borgin and Burkes silently, making sure that the bell on the door didn't ring as he slipped in. None of the proprietors were at the front counter and, after a fair bit of hunting, Harry was able to find Malfoy Manor's location.

Oh this was rich. It was connected to the Floo Network. Harry bit back a smirk and took some of the Floo powder in the store. So what if he was stealing? They were a Dark Arts shop anyway. He left the store, thinking. The Magical world, from his experience, were many things but most of them were ignorant of the Muggles they shared the world with. They relied on magic... but not science.

Harry's cousin had been a television addict and Harry could hear the thing even as he had done chores. He had also read books far above his level when he had been younger. Using his knowledge and finding a phonebook, Harry located where a likely place for an entomologist would be. It was simple, thanks to flying, invisibility and maps that he took from a vendor for tourists to find his way around and soon, he had some hypodermic needles and, after a visit to the entomologist laboratory, far more potassium chloride than was healthy.

From there, it was a simple matter. Harry had something to eat and waited for the magical pubs to empty. When it was late, he used the fireplace to Floo to Malfoy Manor.

All was silent. He waited for a bit until he realized there wasn't a house elf around. Good. He walked around the huge manor, making faces at the expensive things. He could see lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows and what seemed like an albino peacock wandering around outside.

This was why Harry could not allow this family to live. Voldemort would have access to all of this and more due to their funding.

It took a while, but Harry found Draco Malfoy's room first. Silently, he crept in and, after preparing one of his needles, Harry injected the other boy in the leg. Draco Malfoy was a sound sleeper, just stirring a little bit when the needle struck. Pathetic. Harry left the room and eventually found the room of Draco's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. They were injected as well, with Narcissa Malfoy waking up afterwards.

"Ouch!" She said, looking around.

"Dear?" Lucius Malfoy asked, yawning. "What...?"

"Must have been a dream," Narcissa Malfoy said, shaking her head before returning to sleep.

Harry found the key to their Gringotts vault and took it before leaving the manor house, not really concerned. Voldemort could do many things, but Harry knew that every fighting force required funding. And he knew that many of the pure blood families had just that.

He returned to London, making a face. He needed a shower and some clothes. But first to get rid of the key. He had planned earlier in the day and he found a laboratory now that had liquid nitrogen. He used it on the key and, a few moments later, it lay shattered in pieces.

Harry grinned as he left with the pieces. He tossed some into a bin and the others into the Thames, murmuring quietly to himself, "Now isn't science fun?"

It was a bit before he sneaked into a rather nice hotel and took a key from the desk. He didn't really like having to take off his clothes and finding a laundry area before showering, but Harry knew that sometimes things he didn't like had to be done. At least nobody would see him thanks to the cloak.

He cleaned himself up in the borrowed room and returned to gather his clothes. The baggy jeans and threadbare clothes... this just wouldn't do. And he couldn't continually wear his cloak.

Loathe though he was to admit it, he was going to need to work on some things, namely his appearance. He would have to do it the next day. He went to his borrowed room to go to sleep but noticed an owl fluttering outside. Harry rolled his eyes and opened the window.

It looked exhausted and he took the letter from it. Sirius's handwriting, then. Harry then cast a memory charm on the owl and put it outside before reading the letter.

_Harry__,_

_WHERE __ARE __YOU__?_

_-__Snuffles_

Harry ripped the letter up and flushed it away. If it had a tracking charm, they would not find him. Altering his appearance had just gone up to number one on his list of things to do. He set the alarm for early, thinking of how to do this. The famous scar on his forehead would make this more difficult.

The next morning, he left the hotel relatively early, thinking. One stereotype regarding him was that he was a scruffy boy. That was settled with a visit to a store and some laying down of money. He left the store with a suitcase and his new outfits neatly in it, along with his cloak, and new shoes. Harry had no idea that something like a Muggle suit could make him look older, but it did.

A visit to a private optometrist helped with that as well. He left wearing contacts that changed his bright emerald eyes to a less noticeable dark brown. Visiting a salon helped with the hair issue, and Harry left wearing a rather expensive wig that made him seem as if he had dark brown hair shoulder length hair that was now tied back in a braid.

He had glanced at his reflection as he left the salon, adjusting his cufflinks. He didn't look anything like himself. The bangs from his wig covered the scar, and the suit made him seem a bit different.

He made sure to get different colors of everything, dishing out the money for this and lunch. He ate his sandwich in a park, where he could see Hedwig relaxing in a tree. She was near enough to be seen but not near enough to be associated with the young man that was reading a newspaper and eating lunch.

But Harry noticed the tiny, excitable man who was wearing a purple top hat. Dedalus Diggle, the man who had bowed to him once in a shop. The man was looking right at Hedwig and searching around. So obviously, Diggle was looking for him. He was soon joined by a batty old woman with grizzled gray fly away hair. Mrs. Figg, the woman who had babysat Harry for years before Hogwarts.

So they were in on this together. A group, then. Harry thought for a few moments. He had always been in trouble if magic was done near him. So Mrs. Figg couldn't be a witch, Harry knew that the magic of adult wizards would interfere with the Trace that all underage wizards and witches had. Yet she knew a wizard. That made no sense. Harry thought for a few moments about it. Batty... didn't really understand how to fit in...

Could she be a Squib? Someone without magic but from that kind of background? It would fit, but that would mean someone had been watching him for years before he was even aware of the magical world.

He began to work on a crossword puzzle, still keeping an eye on the two. Hedwig was smart enough to fly away from him, to another tree, but Harry could still keep an eye on her.

He stood up and left, going to Diagon Alley and buying a copy of the Daily Prophet. There, on the front page, was the headline: _Entire __Malfoy __family __found __dead__._

Harry read through the article. _No __foul__ play __suspected __at__ this __time_. Heh. The magical world really didn't know anything. But... he was curious. There was no mention of the Dark Mark that he knew had to be on Lucius Malfoy's arm.

Well, he remembered that night in the graveyard very clearly. Malfoy, Macnair, Avery, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle had all been there. Harry had told Fudge that much and the man had said they were all cleared, that he was repeating things, that he was untrustworthy.

Harry thought for a few moments. No... destroying the Death Eater base that was currently working right now was more important than killing the idiots in the administration at the Ministry. At the same time, an ineffective Ministry could be worse than a corrupt one, since a corrupt one was an obvious enemy.

Malfoy was already gone. Harry turned the newspaper, thinking. Yes, Fudge would have to join that list. On his own, the man wasn't a threat, but his position was. He could even be under Imperius. Fudge would have to be next. At least getting into the Ministry would be easy.

Harry used the Floo Powder to get there, putting on his cloak and managing to get lost in the huge crowd of employees. Finding Fudge was pathetically easy, and from there, it was just a waiting game until he was busy doing something. Harry managed to inject the short, stupid man while the Minister was looking over paperwork. Fudge never even felt it.

Harry left the office and the Ministry without drawing any attention to himself, using his broomstick after he used the Floo to leave. He had a few ideas now that he was sure they would be trying rather hard to figure out how the deaths of Fudge and the Malfoys were done.

But he wasn't worried.

He had plans, but to enact them he'd need a few books about runes and enchantments, some more chemicals, some miscellaneous things... and some weapons.


	4. Chapter 4

Magic made things pathetically easy to get. Harry had discovered that the Trace was so diffused in London due to the sheer number of people.

This was a good thing, of course. It had taken a few hours, but Harry was fast and efficient. He had visited the magical bookstore long before, along with laboratories and retrieved chemicals and the like. At the moment, he was in a rather unsavory neighborhood, having acquired some weapons that would likely have him arrested on the spot if they were seen. He was glad they were under his cloak.

Evening was approaching, the street lamps were on, and Harry was returning to the posh hotel he had stayed at when it happened, just as it had before.

Something had happened to the night. The ndigo sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless - the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps had vanished. The distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. He was surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire small street he was currently on, blinding him.

Harry used his wand, murmuring, _"__Lumos__."_

There. A group of Dementors was a bit away, the one in the lead looking at him. How Harry knew that, he didn't know, but he did. "Leave." Harry's voice was calm. "I have no problem driving you away again."

"Wiiiiiizaaaaaard," It was a wet gurgle, a breath forced through a mouthful of... well, Harry had been kissed by it. Dementors did not have a normal mouth, he knew that first-hand. But he hadn't known they could speak. It was logical, though, the Ministry did negotiate with them after all.

"I'm flattered," Harry said sarcastically. "You remember me."

"Always shall I remember you," came the gurgle.

"Lovely," Harry said briskly. "You took the souls of dolts I had no use for and you did something to me. You did your duty, now go."

"You demand, half-breed, but what do you give?" Came the gurgle.

Really? A Dementor had the nerve to insult his background? "I don't know. What else do you want?" Harry asked, partially curious and the other part wanting to be rid of the creature.

"I want... I want..." The Dementor mused. "I want to touch. I want to taste. I want to know what I knew before. I want to know the part of me that is gone."

The creature began to drift toward Harry, away from its fellows, and the knowledge hit Harry in an explosion of fear and rage.

Him. The Dementor wanted him.

"No way," Harry snarled, immediately raising his wand. "No bleeding way."

"Be calm, wizard. I only wish to touch. I miss my green-eyed thrall."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Why did everyone and everything presume he was an idiot? He knew what 'thrall' meant. "I am no one's slave. As for touch, you can touch yourself you foul thing." He raised his wand.

"We will assist you in defeating them."

The Dementor's words made Harry pause. He hesitated and said, suspicious, "Why?"

"You have done more in two days than many have done in years. We are intrigued. We wish to _act__._" The night seemed to shudder with the word.

"Act," the others said, shuddering in agreement.

Harry could relate. But still... Dementors...

Nonetheless, it was a force. Better they obey him than Voldemort, after all. And he could use them, as they should have been used long before.

"... Fine," Harry said, his voice hardening. "You have your taste. Ten seconds."

The Dementor flew towards Harry and opened its mouth. As Harry had thought, its mouth wasn't just an empty gaping hole. It seemed that way, when looking, but it wasn't. Tendrils left and rested gently on his neck. A deep rattling breath, "So unique, your taste, Harry Potter. You taste of bone and blood, of green grass and blue sky... of Magic and Muggle. "

Harry narrowed his eyes but said nothing, simply counting the seconds.

The tendrils didn't curl or grip; the Dementor didn't threaten in any way. At least, not physically. It simply... petted. A light caress, a soft stroking. Harmless, if Harry didn't know what the creatures were capable of.

"Brave wizard," the Dementor said after the allotted time passed. "So brave and different. What do you will?"

Harry noticed the other Dementors creeping closer.

"I want you to Kiss the Death Eaters in Azkaban," Harry said, thinking quickly. It was a simple matter of logic. Voldemort would break his followers out. There would be vicious and powerful people to deal with and support their insane leader. Harry would strike first. He would not allow that threat to escape.

Gurgles broke out. No... not gurgles.

_Laughing__._ They were laughing.

"As you wish."

"And for the two people at Privet Drive," Harry said before they left.

"Your blood?"

Harry knew they couldn't see, so he answered, "Yes. They are detrimental to us."

More gurgling laughter, "As you wish."

The streetlamps burst back into life. A warm breeze swept the small street and the rumble of cars filled the air again. Harry put his wand away and resumed walking. The Death Eaters in Azkaban would be taken care of and no one would be able to force him back into that hell called Privet Drive.

He hadn't anticipated the aid of Dementors in his plans, but they helped. He called a cab and was thinking as he rode back to the hotel. He paid the fare and returned to his room, muttering a notice-me-not charm on the door so that no one would disturb him.

He put out the weapons on the desk, a rifle, a handgun, a few knives and a few different electroshock weapons. Those were the ones he was keenly interested in, the taser and shock prod, because he had wondered. Electric items did not work around Hogwarts, yet they worked in London, where the Ministry, Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were all located. Obviously, the concentration of spells and magic did not deter electricity, which meant that there was something particular about Hogwarts that did.

It also meant, to Harry, that the manors that he was going to probably were not protected against Muggle things. And odds were high that if they couldn't detect a simple poisoning, they wouldn't know much about electroshock weaponry.

Harry didn't bother to smile. He was busy working and researching. Because the manors might be like Hogwarts and therefore block weapons like that. He was going to find runes that made that a non-issue.

Then the families of Crabbe and Goyle would be getting paid a visit.


	5. Chapter 5

Research was a bit more difficult than Harry had anticipated, and he was furious at himself. His stupidity over the past few years... there was no excuse. How dare he rely so heavily on others to do work that was common sense for him? How dare he take classes without even bothering to look into them, simply so that he would have 'company' in them.

He was a fool.

After the few moments to rage at his own stupidity, Harry had forced himself to stay awake for far longer than was healthy, using potions he had bought to force his body and mind to stay awake and aware. He had found the runes but the cost was loss of time. Foolish, he felt so completely and utterly foolish: he was wasting a day to look up runes that he would have known if he had taken the course.

He had used the nearest library to look up engraving metal. He didn't have a stove, but he had a potions kit. He used the cauldron to melt the wax and soon, his weapons and any ammunition for them were all engraved with various runes, to help it magically reload, magically charge, to prevent damage or jamming, to prevent disarming, to ensure accuracy and, rather importantly, to prevent _detection_, even if it was just from noise. For the ammo, he had made sure it would vanish after it hit its target. No point in using weapons if they were easy to track due to the path taken and the like.

Harry felt like an idiot for having not studied this subject before. But that was the past. He began to sew with invisible thread into his clothing as well, for better protection and to not attract attention.

He could lecture himself later. As the Dementors had said, this was a time to _act__._ He could worry about his idiocy later so long as he did not let it deter him now. At least he had managed to do what he needed. He could feel the full force of his hunger now, but he knew sleep was more important.

After a few hours of rest, it was the afternoon. Four days he had been gone from Privet Drive then, which frustrated him and also pleased him a bit. He left the hotel to get some food and catch up with the news. He was in the Leaky Cauldron, looking like a typical no-name Muggleborn, being ignored by the groups around him as he read his paper and ate soup with a sandwich.

_Delores __Umbridge__ Appointed__ New__ Minister __of__ Magic__._

_Death__ Eaters__ Found__ Kissed__ in __Azkaban__, __Dementors __Missing__._

Harry read through the articles, raising an eyebrow in dislike. This Delores Umbridge had quite the history he did not approve of. She was also, rather obviously, like Fudge.

And just as Fudge had been eliminated, this woman had to be as well. Preferably before she got too many things started, too many changes. Harry left the Leaky Cauldron, returned to the hotel and grabbed his weapons. If he was correct, the force from the gun he would use would look as if someone had cast a spell on her.

The Ministry had not learned anything from losing Fudge. Security had not been increased and still few people detected him in the cloak. It was pathetic to be so reliant on magic and ignorant of the world around them. The Muggleborns especially had no excuse for it.

Except Fudge had been adamant about blood, hadn't he? Perhaps it had leaked down through the administration and into the overall structure of the Ministry. Well, better for Harry then, if their stupidity was so wide-spread. He found Umbridge, whom he recognized due to her photos from the newspaper, in the Atrium of the Ministry. She was standing in front of a golden fountain that Harry had noticed before, and he raised an eyebrow at the faces. The wizard made him think of Lockhart, the witch of a snob, he had never seen a centaur look at a wizard with admiration… the house elf though, that seemed pretty accurate.

Harry didn't bother waiting until Delores Umbridge was alone since there was a group large enough to hide his presence.

It was a press conference and call to attention for the employees. There were, from Harry's knowledge and looking over the selection, only two newspapers in the magical UK. There was also only the Wizarding Wireless Network for those that listened.

Why so few information sources? He had a theory that regarded information control, but that did not really matter right now, not when he had things to do.

He had confidence in his etchings and so he aimed and shot. As Harry had suspected, it seemed as if someone had managed to use a spell on the new Minister. He left in the pandemonium after, no one any wiser. He could see the sheer fury and panic on the faces of the witches and wizards in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that had been present. Yes, he had killed their new Minister under their noses. Yes, he had acted before she could. The past record was more than enough for Harry.

He walked through London for a bit, remaining invisible, before going to Knockturn Alley. He would have to think of a way to use the Floo Network from there. As he wandered, Harry recognized a man that was walking, the one that had wanted to kill Buckbeak, Macinair.

Death Eater.

Harry didn't stop to think, he just shot the man. Shouts erupted from the collapse and blood, and he noticed that the shopkeepers ran out to see what was going on.

Seeing his chance, Harry entered Borgin and Burkes and grabbed more Floo Powder, flooing to Crabbe Manor first.

"Huh?" Vincent Crabbe, the Slytherin bully from Harry's year, looked up, confused. How could the fireplace turn green with nobody arriving? Was someone fire-calling them?

He was shot before he realized what was even happening. Harry moved past, not sparing the idiot a look. Vincent Crabbe had been an idiot in life and was not worth a moment now that he was dead. Finding the boy's parents were even easier since they were coming up to get their son for dinner.

There was a wail of a house elf shouting about strangers in the house and the family dead, but Harry was gone through the Floo Network before the house elf could do anything. The Hit Wizards were forcing people to leave the body of Walden Macinair and Harry left Borgin and Burkes, slightly irritated. He had gotten rid of the Crabbe family, but not the Goyle family.

Well, at least he had also gotten rid of a Minister that would have been horrible and a Death Eater that he hadn't expected to see despite that, so perhaps it evened out. Harry hid the weapon and removed his invisibility cloak when he was about to enter Diagon Alley. He had traveled so much and been busy. He was actually hungry once more and he was making his way to a stall when a somewhat familiar voice said, "'Arry?"

Harry stiffened. He was in disguise. No one so far had recognized him. He turned and saw Fleur Delacour staring right at him with a look of concern mixed with worry on her face.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry stared at her for a brief moment before saying, "Fleur."

"So it is you!" She smiled. "I have begun working part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish. I am so pleased to see you! 'Ow are you doing?" She looked him up and down. "I like ze outfit. 'Ow come you do not dress like zat at your school?"

"I'm not trying to hide when at school," Harry answered calmly as he bought a sandwich. He paused before inquiring, "Would you like something to eat as well? Perhaps we can talk as we eat?"

"Zat would be very nice," Fleur said, beaming at Harry, who bought her a sandwich as well. They walked in silence for a few moments.

"How did you recognize me?" Harry asked finally.

She chuckled, "I do not mean to be insulting, but you are ze only fully 'uman male I 'ave known to not really be affected by my 'eritage, 'Arry."

"Ah. That would be a fair reason." Harry watched as women gave Fleur disdainful glowers and as men oogled her and gave him envious looks. He strode a bit closer to her, thinking.

Fleur Delacour was beautiful, yes. She could easily get people to allow her places. And she was quite the witch. She had to be, for the Goblet of Fire to have chosen her as a Triwizard Champion. Unlike Harry, her spot had not been rigged, after all, and she had a job at basically the control center of the magical world's economy.

"How do you deal with this all of the time?" Harry inquired.

She chuckled and shook her head, "You... get used to it. My grandmuzzer... she 'ad it much worse." The witch looked solemn and sad, a look Harry had not seen on her before. "Veela are... viewed as many things. Some zhink zat zey are only useful for... certain zhings." Fleur looked upset at the thought. "In some places, zey are..."

Harry looked at her. She was looking around, as if seeing if anyone else were listening.

"Never mind, 'Arry. It is no'zhing."

"I disagree," Harry said simply. "If it were nothing, you would not hesitate. It is something that makes you both angry and uncomfortable, yet it must be common enough for you to not want to make a scene by mentioning it."

She looked surprised once more and looked him up and down before saying, slowly, "You 'ave changed a bit zhese few weeks."

"... Yes, I have," Harry murmured, agreeing. He did not want to clarify, but it was obvious that she would not speak unless he did.

Perhaps he was psychic because she said, "If you tell me what 'as 'appened to you to cause zis, I shall tell you what it was."

They were near the Leaky Cauldron and both looked at each other. "I think we will need a private booth for this conversation," Harry murmured. Fleur nodded and the two went inside. Harry ordered pumpkin juice for both of them and they were soon in a private booth. There was no outside noise and no one could see them.

Harry fingered his wand, knowing he could cast a memory charm if she panicked. That thought in his mind, he told Fleur of what had happened thus far to him this summer.

To the witch's credit, though her eyes widened a fraction, she did not panic or anything. In fact, she looked thoughtful and intrigued by the deeds.

"So you were ze one that killed zem." Fleur gave a throaty laugh, "I do not zhink it was a vairy great loss."

"I'm sure many disagree," Harry murmured. "But you seem to think of this as a sort of vigilante justice. Is there something I should know?"

She looked torn for all of about two seconds before she said, "Zhere are zhose zat zrick beings from impoverished places, 'Arry. If zey are werewolves but nice looking, or Veela, or anyzhing... zey are promised respectable jobs with good wages. But zen... but zen instead of zat, zey are forced into becoming prostitutes and strippers. Zey are forced, if zey are strong, into fighting to ze death, so zat some make money from ze _entertainment__._" She looked furious. "None of ze people mention it... but all of us zat are not fully 'uman... we all know of it."

"Nothing has been done about it? And it's common?" Harry looked furious.

Fleur nodded, "Some like me... we 'ave more magic, we can get an education... but even zen, it is 'ard to get work in respectable places. But ze goblins, as annoying as zey may be, they do 'ire equally. Zat is rare. But yes... some have begun fighting, feeling zat turning more people into werewolves or vampires or something will 'elp, but all it does is make ze laws and effects _worse__."_

Harry remembered the things that had happened after the third task, the night Voldemort had returned. He drummed his fingers, "I see now. It's deeper than I thought before, but I do understand. That's why so many non-humans fight for Voldemort. It's easy to persuade beings that you will give them their rights and their freedoms if you act instead of use the system. The system is broken."

Fleur nodded, sighing. "Zat is why I cannot find fault in your actions. I know it is 'orrible and I should lecture you for killing and 'aving people Kissed, but I simply cannot support a system zat allows zis to 'appen." She sighed, "Bill seems to feel differently. I 'ave not even told 'im 'ow I feel about zis."

"Bill?" Harry inquired.

She nodded, "Bill Weasley. 'E works at Gringotts too, and 'e is vairy nice, but 'e is always vairy busy."

"He's nice," Harry said, remembering him. "But I thought he was in Egypt as a curse-breaker."

"'E was zere before," Fleur said. "'E said 'e wanted to be close to 'is family so 'e applied for a desk job."

That didn't sound right, not to Harry. Any Weasley, due to the close association with him, would be a target of Voldemort's. Why then would one come here? There had to be another reason.

"Who do you think they'll get to replace Umbridge?" Harry inquired.

"I do not know," Fleur said, thinking. "Probably yet another useless person."

"You won't tell Bill about this?" Harry inquired.

She shook her head, "Of course not, 'Arry. You saved my sister's life and now... now you 'elp people without demanding anything in return."

"Many disagree with you," Harry said simply.

"I am not zem," she said, waving her hand. "Zey matter not to me."

"Bill might."

"What he does not know will not 'urt 'im," she said, waving her hand yet again. "You 'ave 'elped me, 'Arry. If I can 'elp you, let me know."

"I don't want to use you. I... I won't lie, I considered it at first, but after what you told me, it would feel as if I were like them."

Harry had changed, it was true. But he knew society had rules for a reason. He was breaking those rules for a reason that he knew society should accept but would not. When he was finished, it would be fine. But this... doing what Fleur had said they did, it was beyond what Harry had fought before. People feared Voldemort and he had allies in the fight, people accepted it was right and would assist. But taking away their entertainment, their tradition, changing views... that was a fight unlike any he had faced before.

But it did give him something to think about.

"You are different from zem, 'Arry," Fleur said it gently, placing her hand on his.

"The thing is," Harry murmured, "I don't really... I know I should be worried that I might be that way, but I'm not. I only know that you have a sense of right and wrong and that I got along with you."

"Zen I shall be your conscience," she said. "You act and do not worry. You are doing a good job, 'Arry. But... if your family is gone, who are you with?"

"At a hotel," Harry said truthfully.

"Non," Fleur made a face. "Perhaps you can stay with me? Ze goblins might actually give me a bigger flat if anozzer person is zere as well."

"You don't mind?" He was surprised.

"You are a good person," Fleur said, shrugging. "And zis way I know zat I am at least 'elping some'ow. Let us talk to ze goblins first."

"And if they say no to a larger flat?" Harry inquired as they left the Leaky Cauldron.

"Zen I make sure ze sofa 'as a nice cushion charm on it," Fleur said, giving him a smile as they walked through Diagon Alley. Harry noticed that others were still giving him looks of envy. The looks some people had as they looked Fleur reminded Harry of salivating dogs and it was all he could do to not shoot them.

They reached the large multi-story snowy-white building and entered. Fleur led Harry through the halls and soon they were in an office.

The goblin sat, a very old and severe looking one. "What is it?" He asked, looking at Fleur.

" 'Ello Ragnok," Fleur bowed her head politely. "My friend, 'Arry," and here she indicated him, "needs a place to stay when 'e is not in school," Fleur said. "'E will also need... funding. I zhought 'e could stay with me, but I would need a bigger flat."

"What should we help him for?" The goblin sneered, looking Harry up and down. "Probably like the rest of them here. Funding for what?" His attention turned back to Fleur.

"A... project that's helping many like us."

The goblin scoffed, "Right, like so many other times. No, wizard, you do things on your own. Rely on your Ministry, it doesn't seem to make you pay debts. Just ask Ludo Bagman." The goblin looked even more furious.

Harry detected a feeling here, an undercurrent, and he remembered it. "He gave you everything he had. It wasn't enough?"

"No!" The goblin snarled. "And he left and your Ministry covered it up!"

"Fudge and his crony are dead," Harry said, matter-of-factly.

"Doesn't matter," the goblin snapped. "But I'd like to shake the hand of whoever did it."

"I zhink giving 'im a place to stay is more 'elpful zen shaking 'is 'and," Fleur said softly, making Harry give her an odd look. She had said she would help him, but that she would keep it quiet. Why tell the goblin then?

"... Him?" The goblin looked Harry up and down before looking back at Fleur.

"Yes, 'im. 'Arry Potter."

"I don't believe it. I want proof."

"I don't think that's possible..." Harry murmured, thinking.

Ragnok pulled out a very ornamental, official looking knife and an odd curved metal bowl with runes etched on it. "Give me your hand and we'll see."

Harry glanced at Fleur, who nodded, and he extended his left hand to the goblin. A cut across the palm and some blood flicked into the bowl. Harry watched as his palm sealed itself and the goblin seemed utterly enthralled and stunned by whatever was going on with the bowl. Harry just saw lots of wispy smoke figures and heard odd guttural sounds.

"Oh Mr. Potter," Ragnok said when it finished. "I think I have a preposition for you... definitely on the magicide deal, no question about that... if you want to stay with Ms. Delacour, then we can establish that. As for funds, I think the people you got rid of will cover any expenses. Just one favor for us and we will consider this a deal and offer our assistance."

"Certainly," Harry said, surprised. He knew goblins loathed wizards but this one seemed positively giddy about helping him. And what was the magicide deal? "What is it?"

Ragnok's voice was cold and obviously thirsting for blood when he spoke.

"Bring us Ludo Bagman."


	7. Chapter 7

Harry nodded at the words. "How will I get him here?"

Ragnok brought out a pendant that looked like a tiny sun, gold set with a tiny garnet in the middle. "It's a portkey to this office. Say 'Assignment Complete' to activate it." Perhaps he knew what Harry's next question was because he said, "The last place we tracked him to was Ellis Moor."

"Will you be paying any expenses that I incur as a result of this?" Harry asked, thinking. "I can't Apparate just yet, that is why funding may be an issue."

The goblin made a face before a sly grin appeared on his face. Fleur raised an eyebrow, obviously having never seen the look before, and Harry tilted his head. "We can cover for your expenses, better than having those idiots in the government getting it."

"Is there a way to have these funds readily available in the Muggle world?"

A thoughtful look on Ragnok's face now and Fleur looked at Harry, "Do you zhink 'e is zhere?"

"I might have to remain there while tracking him," Harry answered. "There's also the problem of I can't really use magic outside of areas with large populations due to the fact that the Ministry can track it."

"Makes sense." Ragnok muttered a few words that neither Fleur nor Harry understood before he stopped, staring at a piece of paper and he began to laugh. "Perfect." He went to the door and opened it, shouting words in Gobbledegook. After a few moments, a goblin entered the office, holding a small bag, a wallet and something that reminded Harry of a credit card. It was plain black, with the Gringotts insignia on the top right corner. Harry noticed the numbers typical of a credit card were etched into it and after Ragnok placed Harry's finger on it, his name appeared on it.

"That should settle any needs in the Muggle world for you. It won't be from your account." Ragnok handed the wallet to Harry. "£10000 is in there, Mr. Potter. It is spelled against thieves, to give you whatever amount you will need when you reach in, and to look smaller."

"If it ees spelled for ze amount to always be in reach, zhen why not jus' give ze wallet?" Fleur inquired.

It was a good question, one that Harry wondered about himself.

Ragnok shook his head, "Some purchases are easier with a card, less noticeable. Other things are easier with cash. If the only hotel is an expensive one but you want to buy something from a street vendor to eat, for example."

"I see," Harry said calmly.

"The bag here," Ragnok said, holding it up. It seemed to have runes sown into it and Harry had a feeling that it was warded to divert attention away from it, "does work that way. It is for magical purchases."

Harry accepted the items, putting the credit card into the wallet. "Thank you very much," he said simply, putting the pendant that was shaped like a tiny sun around his neck. He looked at Fleur, "Thank you as well. I will see you when I return."

"Zhank you, 'Arry," Fleur said, hugging him and giving him a kiss on the cheek, to his surprise. "Be safe and good luck!"

"Thank you," Harry said. He nodded to Ragnok, who nodded back, and left Gringotts. It was a simple matter to leave through the Leaky Cauldron and return to the hotel for his various items. He left and went into a small, empty winding street and summoned the Knight Bus to where he was.

After a usual Knight Bus ride (though really, could it ever be usual with its insane speed and the fact that it was a magical bus?), and a few stops for the other passengers, Harry found himself at Ellis Moor. To a Muggle, it was a rather scenic view, mountains nearby and the beautiful lake. It was quiet and calm and peaceful. Harry was sure some hikers had to visit here a few times at least, never knowing how close they were to another world. But there wasn't really even a road here, so Harry knew Muggle visitors weren't frequent.

He could see the Quidditch Stadium, a huge building, and he walked towards it. He saw a tiny pub and about five houses, but it wasn't really enough to be a settlement per say. He could see gardens and obviously magical greenhouses near every building, as well as some animals grazing. So they most likely fended for themselves here. The pub was open and he entered.

It was small, but very clean and gave off a homey feeling, much like the Leaky Cauldron. Harry walked to the bartender, who gave him a smile. "Hello," the man greeted. "How may I help you?"

Harry gave a faint smile in return, "Might I have soup and a sandwich, please? And some butterbeer, if you have it?"

"Certainly, certainly, take a seat."

Harry took a seat near the corner, one where he could see anyone that entered regardless of entrance. He thought for a few moments before wanting to hit himself. He couldn't just outright say he was looking for Ludo Bagman. Odds were high that the man, like Harry himself, had a disguise on. If not a disguise, at the very least he had a false name. This was going to be difficult, more so because unlike himself, Bagman did not need to be concerned about using magic anywhere.

Lovely.

He drummed his fingers, thinking. Ah, there was a way: the guest registration. He would stay here a night and move from there.

The bartender brought his food and Harry ate after thanking the man. Once he was finished the meal, he asked about staying the night and the man, as Harry had hoped, brought out the guest registration. Unable to help himself, he read the name and said with amusement, "John Smith?"

The bartender made a face, "I think he suspected we were idiots."

Harry wrote, sure to avoid that same issue, jotted, 'Harrison Porter' as his name. "Is he still here? I'd like to meet a fellow Quidditch fan."

The bartender chuckled, "I suppose you would, that's why most people come here. He should be in room eleven, right across from you, but he never really comes out. Guess he's a loner."

He couldn't tell the bartender the real reason for the reason the man never came out of his room. Hiding from goblins and all that... "All right, thanks for the warning." With that, Harry went up the staircase and into his own room, making sure everyone was in order. He opened the window, positive that Hedwig would be there soon.

Then he took out a paperclip, thanking Fred and George silently. The two had insisted that Harry learn at least the rudimentary points of Muggle lock-picking after they had picked him up in the flying car. They had argued that even if his uncle had locked his things away again, Harry would be able to retrieve them. Having seen the logic in it, Harry had agreed. They had taught him these things while he helped them degnome the garden or while Ron had been at breakfast because they hadn't wanted their younger brother to get ideas about getting into their rooms or things. Harry had rolled his eyes but had agreed to not tell his friends about his little skill.

Harry thought about it for a few moments. It probably wouldn't be enough, not for a door in the magical world. But there were adult witches and wizards around despite the small settlement. The Trace would probably read it but they wouldn't know who had cast it.

He could break any wards around the door. But he would want to be safe. For that he'd need a kit...

As if reading his thoughts, Hedwig flew in.

"Hey girl," Harry murmured, petting her as she nipped his fingers affectionately. "I need to send you on a strange mail order. I'm going to cast a spell that will disguise you for it. Is that okay?"

A hoot that sounded affirmative.

Harry cast the spell and waited a few moments. When no notices arrived, he said, "I need a lock-picking kit."

A few seconds before Hedwig gave an excited hoot. Harry gave a slight smile. Good. She knew where to get one. "Just be careful, girl. And don't let anyone see you."

A nibble of his fingers and a look in her amber eyes, the look that Harry knew meant 'Trust me.'

"You know I trust you, girl. But I still have the right to be concerned, especially when I know I am most likely being looked for."

Another hoot, a sad one of agreement, before she flew off. Harry watched for a few moments before he took out a book and began to read. He would self-study and ensure that nothing would take him by surprise on his retrieval mission. The goblins had been unable to get to Ludo Bagman and the guest registrar book had had no sign of Bagman leaving.

He paused a moment. Perhaps the man would open his door if he knocked? Harry couldn't imagine goblins knocking.

Shrugging, he went across the hall and knocked a few times.

Nothing.

Harry had guessed that would be too easy. He took a few steps back and murmured a spell quietly. It listed the wards that were up. Harry was pleased-they seemed simple. One was to ward away non-humans, which explained why the goblins could not get Ludo Bagman. The solution was elegant and obviously effective.

He returned to his room and read for a bit before going to sleep. He would be patient. No need to cast suspicion on himself. The next day, after breakfast in the pub area, he explored the settlement. The people were hard workers and polite. The Quidditch stadium was also interesting to explore. It seemed like a permanent place to play and made him wonder why the Quidditch World Cup hadn't been played at a stadium.

Harry was in his little room checking over his weapons and eating lunch when he was pleasantly surprised by Hedwig returning. She was clutching a big leather case and Harry opened it, raising an eyebrow. "Goodness girl," he murmured. "I could get into the locksmith business with this. Thanks."

She hooted happily and took some of his sandwich. Harry finished his checking over things and went downstairs, informing the bartender he would be leaving that evening.

After the man nodding and Harry paying, he returned to his room and packed everything. It was simpler than he thought it would be, picking the lock.

The room was identical to the one Harry had stayed in, only it had a trunk identical to Moody's within it. Harry cast a silencing ward around the room and easily picked the lock to the seventh keyhole.

Much like Moody's trunk, this one had a room in it. And Harry could see Ludo Bagman inside of it, eating something.

"Wha-who-" He began.

"Stupefy," Harry said simply, making the man fall over, unconscious. Harry made sure he had a good grip on the trunk. He did not want to leave any evidence behind.

That done, he said, "Assignment Complete."

The tug that he still wasn't used to and the room vanished in a whirlwind, but he had a good grip on the trunk and it went with him.

Part of him knew that Ludo Bagman had been avoiding the goblins for a reason, that the Ministry must have not drawn attention to the ordeal for a reason. But Harry really didn't care about that, truth be told. In fact, he was positive that Bagman being brought to the goblins would probably not end pleasantly for the older wizard, but it wasn't as if the man didn't deserve it.

All too soon, he was back in the office. Harry was sure there would be something that alerted Ragnok to his presence, so he opened the trunk and levitated the still-unconscious Ludo Bagman out. Soon, the office door opened and Harry was rewarded with a rather surprised goblin.

Good.

The teen took in the astonished look as the goblin looked back and forth between Harry and the unconscious Ludo Bagman.

"I do believe you mentioned a deal?" Harry inquired smoothly.

The goblin just smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry was left alone in Ragnok's office for about thirty minutes since the goblin had taken the trunk from him with a laugh of delight. The teen turned when the door opened and revealed Fleur. She looked concerned.

"I zhink you should see zis," she said quietly, holding out the evening edition of the Daily Prophet.

Harry took it. It had condemnation of the recent activities, but the main person speaking about the 'atrocities' was Albus Dumbledore, who had just been reinstated in all of his former positions.

Interesting. He hadn't known Dumbledore had been the target of a smear campaign.

Harry raised an eyebrow. He would not have said 'atrocities.'

It made no sense. The words were clear to Harry, the scene as obvious in his mind when he thought back to that day in June.

"_If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I - I shall act as I see fit."_

_Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand._

"_Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me -"_

"_The only one against whom I intend to work," said Dumbledore, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."_

Harry _was_ working against Lord Voldemort. So why was Dumbledore condemning the actions?

He had been expecting to be concerned about Voldemort and the Death Eaters, a concern that no one seemed to address. Now looking through the papers, they were concerned about this 'new Dark Lord,' who had the dementors on his side, who killed 'innocent people in their homes.'

Lovely.

He had been expecting to be concerned about his enemies, about Voldemort's people returning for retribution. He hadn't thought his friends and people he had hoped would be allies would be against his actions.

Or had he?

His enemy was anyone that wanted to hurt him, reduce him to nothing.

If they were against him...

If they were against him, then, like Dumbledore had told Fudge in June, they had reached a parting of the ways.

He looked at Fleur for a brief second before returning his gaze to the paper, saying, "If they act against me, then we will have more enemies than I originally anticipated. I suppose it is good that we have the dementors after all. We will need a fighting force capable of withstanding a patronus, though."

He didn't realize his tone was the calm, calculated one of a leader. He didn't see the look of solemn determination on Fleur's face as she realized her decision to follow this young man was already made.

How could she not? He had already done more in a matter of days than many older, supposedly wiser beings before him. His methods were not pleasant, but how could she argue with the results? Voldemort would be severely weakened, and bigotry in the United Kingdom's government was shown to not be tolerated by the mysterious newcomer. She would have a say in things now, and perhaps her input would reduce the deaths.

But how could she not side with someone so calm, so collected, so _sure?_

She knew that even if her boyfriend did not agree, that she was doing the right thing.

Ragnok entered, looking quite pleased. "You upheld your end of the deal, wizard."

Harry nodded.

"I discussed it with the other elders," the goblin continued. "You acted on our behalf without any other reason except the word of one of ours. Our payment is for you to keep what was given to you. The accounts they are tied to just happen to be those of your recently deceased relatives. You see, since their relatives tend to be criminals or disowned, it had to go to someone that has shown he is respectable and responsible."

He understood and paused before shaking his head, "I am afraid I cannot ask you for all of that. You would be financing me if you do that" Harry indicated the newspaper. "I will not drag you into a wizard's war, but thank you for being honorable in your dealings."

Ragnok stared at him for a few seconds before he laughed loudly, "Oh Harry Potter, you do not see do you? We have already chosen our side." He looked at Fleur before stating simply, "As have you. As have the Dementors. We are beings of action. We do not stand idly. So, wizard, what is our next move?"

Harry didn't speak, but the other two in the room knew that it wasn't due to awkwardness or worry. It was a thoughtful silence. Harry _was_ thinking of the next move, of the next thing to do... and then he was thinking beyond that. Beyond just the next step, because if he was taking an active role in this world of his, things would have to be well thought out and planned because he would be fighting a war on all fronts.

"We wait for the Dementors to come," he said calmly. "Then we all determine what exactly we _want. _I am sure we have actual desires for changes if we fight, much like what Fleur told me happens. Others are angry and want change. It will fuel a revolution but anger will not solve the issues after the current problems are gone. We will need actual detailed ideas on how to accomplish our goals. While we're doing all of this, we will also have to keep a close eye on all of the others. Voldemort is a very skilled, very powerful man who was raised as a poor orphan. I have a feeling he will be quite a threat even without as much funding. And if Dumbledore is against us as well... he is a very skilled, powerful _and_ respected man. It will be very difficult to face both when I will be restricted by the Ministry's laws with magic."

Fleur nodded and said, thinking, "And many beings cannot 'ave wands. Zis adds to ze problems."

Ragnok growled, "That should be something changed. Get rid of that act."

"We'll wait," Harry said simply. "One thing we must have is patience. There's a saying in the Muggle world, that every dog has its day." The young man, the young leader, gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes, a cold smile that made the other two glad they were on his side. "And soon, very, very soon... it'll be our turn."


	9. Chapter 9

After a few seconds of silence had passed, enough time for Harry's words to sink in, to realize they really _were_ basically forming another side in this war, Ragnok had shown Harry to another room. It was large, obviously hidden from visitors and most employees, and looked more like a typical conference room than any office. There were maps and the like on the walls, as well as banners and the like, and a long table in the middle of the room, the obvious main feature of the room.

Once he had brought the teen there, both Ragnok and Fleur left Harry alone for a bit.

He sat in a chair in the middle and thought. Magical wars tended to be against creatures and weren't really strategic. In fact, the many history essays and articles he had read, most wars were more along the Muggle lines of riots or uprisings, but not an actual _war._ That had changed with Grindelwald, but even that uprising had been assisted by Muggles and had ended with a duel.

Voldemort's time could be considered more of a basic riot structure, or a guerrilla style... but he often didn't use strategy either. He seemed to just roll over beings with sheer power and fear.

Dumbledore had authority and respect and power and Harry was sure the old man had the ability to use strategy. After all, had he not said to Sirius to 'gather the old crowd?' That meant he had a group and was using it and most likely hiding it from the Ministry.

Ah, the Ministry. The law of the land, the makers of laws and everything. Capturing that and Hogwarts would ensure a lot of things... control over people, control over education...

So. This was his situation. The enemy had influence in the Ministry... or had had it. Now the Ministry was in disarray which was good and bad. Good because the known enemies were gone, and bad because a new one that less was known about could come in. Hogwarts was firmly under Dumbledore.

The enemy had magic, had power and experience and numbers. It would be a three-front fight.

The advantages he had... Harry drummed his fingers. Of course. He had the advantage of finances. What else?

_Think._

He had the Dementors. Able to kiss beings, able to depress them... a patronus could drive them away though. The goblins in wars had always used weapons to fight wizards in groups.

_Wait._ Weapons. _Of course._

Goblins, for their many skills, had always used hand to hand weapons... much like the middle ages. Harry's main difference, the only way he had been able to eliminate so many so quickly was due to _current Muggle advances._ Muggles were, innovative and skilled at making do without magic. Harry knew that technologies being developed in the non-magical world were improving all the time. Governments spent money all the time on research and development for the military.

The magical world had not done that. But Harry had done a large amount of damage on his own. Imagine a _group_ capable of that, a small group alone would be devastating.

And Dementors fed on emotions. Was it possible for them to feed on negative emotions instead of positive ones? If that were the case, his group wouldn't be bogged down with those dark thoughts.

But if he was fighting war... had anyone warned the Muggles? He had read in his history books that the Prime Minister knew about magic. Then a warning to him about this, about this whole situation, would probably be appreciated. At the very least, it would show the Muggle government that this new side not only respected them, but also took them and the millions of other non-magical people in the world into consideration when thinking of what to do.

Fleur would do for delivering that message, Harry was sure. He would send her to go as soon as possible to 10 Downing Street. That would, Harry was sure, be quite the meeting.

The room grew cold and he looked up, calm, as a group of Dementors appeared. As if a signal had gone off, Fleur and Ragnok returned, a group of other goblins with them.

Harry nodded to all of them and looked at the Dementors, "Can you only feed off of positive emotions?" He inquired.

A gurgle before soft whispers that he couldn't hear and the lead dementor spoke, "What... do you mean?"

"You take away happiness," Harry answered. "Is it possible to take away other emotions instead, such as doubt or sadness or anger?"

More soft whispers and the gurgling voice spoke once more, "We have not tried, sweet thrall." A gurgle that Harry was sure was a chuckle and before he could move, the Dementor was next to him, its cloak touching Harry's legs as he faced it, his wand pressed against its chest.

Close. Close enough to kiss, definitely. The atmosphere was freezing now, very cold, and he could hear the discomfort of others in the room.

"So _tempting,_" the Dementor said, its head by Harry's ear. It laid a humanoid hand on his chest, the gray and scabby skin of the Dementor obvious. "So brave and different... so... delightful..."

Harry pressed the wand harder into the creature's chest. "Either you do as I said or leave," he said simply.

A chuckle, "Wizard, you are demanding once more. What do you give?"

"The same thing as before," Harry said simply.

"More," the Dementor's face was all he could see now, the eyes, though sightless, seemed to bore into Harry's own.

"What do you mean mor-" Harry didn't finish as the Dementor latched itself to his mouth, kissing him.

The same flashes as before, dark and cold and strange, but before Harry could lift his wand, the images changed.

He was five, watching Dudley riding a new red bicycle, and his heart was bursting with jealousy… he was nine, and Ripper the bulldog was chasing him up a tree and the Dursleys were laughing below on the lawn… he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin… A great black dragon was rearing in front of him… Cedric Diggory was lying on the ground with blank eyes staring at him…

He was back in the odd conference room, the Dementor pulling away. There was a lot of shouting, and yet he felt fantastic. "Enough," he said simply, holding up his hand.

"'Arry?" Fleur inquired, looking very concerned indeed, her wand pointing at the other dementors, and Harry could see the silvery mist of a patronus ready to be summoned.

"I'm fine," Harry answered, surprised. He felt... odd. Strangely light, as if he could do anything.

That whispering again, a soft whispering, from the Dementors and his Dementor's hands were on his shoulder. "Yes, wizard," the Dementor spoke softly. "We know how to now without touch."

"Then stop emitting the disturbing aura," Harry answered, indicating the still shivering other beings. "Anyone that enters this building will know you are here."

Gurgles of laughter before the atmosphere changed to normal, despite the Dementors being there. Harry could see the looks of surprise on the others. That didn't matter though. He had another question, "Ragnok... I understand all of you know how to use weapons."

"Yes," the elderly goblin said, grinning. "We are masters of blades and hammers! We shall destroy!"

Cheers from the goblins.

"Well... do you know how to use a gun?"

Confused looks and Harry gave that odd, almost frightening grin before placing his weapon on the table so that they could see it. "That banner," Harry indicated one with crossed swords, "Would it offend anyone if it were ruined?"

A goblin strode forward, "We have met before, Harry Potter," he said. "I am Griphook. That is my family crest. What do you intend to do?"

"I would like to show you what this weapon is capable of," Harry answered. "For that I need a target. That banner is on the other side of the room. It will provide a good demonstration."

The goblin looked thoughtful before stating, "I would hold your wand while you have your demonstration, to ensure this is not trickery or a mockery of my ancestors."

Harry nodded and took out his wand. He knew that was another thing the other sides in this fight did not have amongst themselves: trust. He might not have the trust of these beings due to whatever reason, but he would earn it. He would ensure they trusted him to lead their side and to listen to him. And he would show that he could be trusted to listen if they knew more.

Griphook took the wand staring at it with something akin to awe before nodding to Harry. He lifted the gun and shot the target repeatedly, earning soft murmurs of admiration from the watchers.

"We have never seen weapons like these," Ragnok mused, a look in his eyes of admiration as he hefted the gun and, after a nod from Griphook, shot himself. "Amazing. Simply amazing..."

"I noticed in history most of the fighting from a distance was done with bows or spells," Harry answered. "This might make things a bit more... even. As would some chemicals I can think of. Ah, Griphook, thank you, for your allowing my use of the banner with your family's crest as a target."

Griphook nodded and returned Harry's wand as the gun was being passed around so that they could see the new weapon that this wizard had brought them. He could see the impressed looks and it was obvious they were eager to get started.

"Fleur," Harry said. "I have a large favor to ask of you."

"Anyzhing, 'Arry," Fleur said, bowing her head to him.

As Harry looked at her, he realized she meant it. _Anything._ She would even degrade herself if he asked. The thought was... surprising. "Never bow to me," he said simply, looking all around the room. "We are equals. I shall never have you begging to me."

She looked up at him and gave a smile. She really was a beautiful witch, and Harry gave a smile. "I need you to go to the Muggle government. 10 Downing Street is where the Muggle Prime Minister lives. I would like you to let him know of our world's situation and the like. I trust your judgement in explaining things. There will be guards and the like, so you might have to use a few charms to get by. And Muggle clothing."

"Of course, 'Arry." She nodded.

"I have other firearms," Harry said to Ragnok.

The elderly goblin nodded, "We shall make more of these. Enough to have for weapons."

"More than that," Harry said quietly. "We will need a place to practice. My items are etched with runes. Should there be an area where the magic of them are countered..."

The goblin nodded, "We shall find a place."

"You will train alongside us," Harry said to the Dementors. "I want you to be able to tell apart ally and foe and to be able to react accordingly regarding emotions and actions."

A gurgling laugh, "As you wish."

They left after this, Harry leaving with Fleur, but the Dementors made him concerned. What more would they ask for to give their aid? How much of himself would they expect him to give?

And more importantly, if he was successful, would he care about the sacrifice made? Much like chess, sometimes sacrifices had to be made. If the sacrifice required to win this fight ended up being himself, would that really be so horrible?

Later. Those thoughts could come later. Right now, Harry realized he was tired. Fleur showed him to a guest room and he thanked her before opening the window and allowing his first friend to fly into the room.

Hedwig gave him a gentle nip on the ear before resting on the wardrobe. Harry took off his disguise and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, and slept.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: I don't do these often (I feel they detract from the story), but in this case I am making an exception. When I published chapter 8, a reviewer with the handle of Conu came up with an excellent suggestion that honestly, I did not think of on my own. The story then changed slightly in my mind and I could not stop thinking of it.**_

_**So, Conu? Thank you so much for the excellent idea you gave me. Anyone that reads the review will know it. This is to give proper credit to the originator of such a great idea and to show my thanks for it and in allowing me to use it.**_

_**And to all of you that read and review, who have added this to C2s or alerted it or favorited it? Thank you ALL. I'm honored and humbled you find what I write to be not only worth your time, but to also ensure I know what is good (or bad) and keep tabs on it.**_

_**Now I'm shutting up and getting to the reason why you're here: the story!**_

* * *

Fleur Delacour poked her head into the room, a tray of food in her hands. She had made chicken fricassee for her guest, but he was sleeping. His pet owl glanced over and gave a friendly hoot as Fleur silently placed Harry's food on the bedtable, near his glasses but not near enough for him to accidentally jostle it. She had also put some tea there for him.

Yes, he had asked her to pay that visit to the Muggle Prime Minister as soon as possible, but she did not want to think of him being hungry. Not this young man who had saved her sister and now was trying so desperately to fit into a role Fleur was sure he did not expect. The least she could do was tend to him the best she could.

She knew he was sleeping now though, so she dressed appropriately for a meeting with a Muggle politician. She had pearl earrings and a hat, with a black dress. Harry had mentioned Muggles, so Fleur prepared to charm and use magic to see this man. And, getting an idea from the boy who was sleeping, she too put on a brown-haired wig. It would not do to be recognized so simply. Now ready for her meeting, the witch left the flat.

Though she appeared calm and serene as she strode through the streets of London, her mind was busy thinking and planning. That Dementor could have destroyed Harry. She had been too slow in reacting. She had not been ready and that kind of error would hurt severely if it happened again.

She would practice from now on. She would ensure she could effectively watch Harry's back, help the young man who was trusting her with so much. But how could she help him besides this meeting? Harry had to think so many steps ahead, had to worry about so many...

Ah. There was something. Bill had told her in June that he had been present when Dumbledore had tried to tell the-then Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, about the return of Voldemort.

What a name. Voldemort... a butchering of her native tongue, Fleur felt. A powerful wizard feared by so many and yet could not even use his own language or given name.

She pushed the thoughts about the wizard's name away. What was important was what Bill had told her. Dumbledore had told Fudge that it would be a parting of the ways if they did not agree. Fleur was not there in that room that day.

But Harry had been.

The thought occurred as she walked. Forging a letter from someone would not be difficult, especially with the former Minister having correspondence with the bank. The goblins would be able to state it was in his records... Yes. With a letter..."_Open in the event of my unnatural death or disappearance. Share the contents with everyone. Let the truth be known."_ It could be with a vial containing the memory of that night.

Dumbledore was a powerful wizard. Harry would not be able to take him in a duel and Fleur knew she could not. But perhaps they could strike in a way that was not expected. Everyone was slandering the older wizard, but with the events happening, they were turning to him once more, proclaiming him a brilliant and powerful wizard, a good Headmaster and he would, no doubt, be re-instated in all his former positions.

If word got out he had, essentially, threatened the former Minister of Magic whom was now dead, well... what would people think?

She had reached the place. It was obvious by the guards.

"Closed, miss, sorry," one said, giving her an apologetic look.

Fleur twisted her face into a confused expression, "But ze Prime Minister wished to see me."

The man shared a look with another guard and Fleur took out a piece of paper. "I 'ope zis makes evairzhing clear?"

The eyes fluttered for a few moments, both of them, before both guards nodded. "Yes, miss. Our apologies. We shall get an escort for you immediately."

"Zhank you," Fleur said with a smile, following a guard that led the way. She could see people looking at her, some with envy, others with obvious lust. They were unimportant.

After a confused flurry of activity from the secretary and guard, with a subtle spell, Fleur was soon waiting for the Prime Minister.

"Sorry," the Prime Minister said as she entered. "I... I wasn't aware I had a meeting..."

Fleur nodded and saw the magical painting. A simple spell made it unable to react to her presence and it would not remember this at all. Paintings were, after all, just that: paint on a canvas. Freeze the paint and it would not react.

"I am vairy sorry," Fleur stated. "I did not wish for anyone to know I am 'ere."

The Prime Minister looked at the wand, looked at the portrait and looked at Fleur once more before groaning softly. "Magic, then? What now?"

Fleur gave an amused smile, "You 'ave not 'ad many good experiences, zen?"

The Prime Minister simply shook his head, remembering that 'Serious' Black, that 'Kwidditch' thing and the dragons... and a sphinx. "No," he said simply.

"We zought as much," Fleur said gently. "Might I make some tea?"

"Please," the Prime Minister said quietly, watching her conjure it up. "I normally deal with Fudge."

"Ze Ministry is in disarray," Fleur said, amused as she sipped her tea. "And Fudge 'as died. Zhere iz a war coming, sir. It is already 'ere, but not recognized. We 'ad 'oped to inform you so zat you will be prepared to take ze necessary steps."

"He's dead?" The man felt a pang of sympathy before he remembered her other words. "War?" repeated the Prime Minister nervously. "Surely that's a little bit of an overstatement?"

Fleur shook her head. "Non. Ze Dark Lord, Voldemort, 'as returned."

The Prime Minister glanced at her quizzically, "Fudge never would say his name."

"Cowards, ze lot of zhem," Fleur dismissed. "I was requested to visit to show we respect you, Minister. We are not part of ze Ministry."

"You're..." The man paused and took more tea before he spoke, "War is brewing, you said. Of course. You're involved in it."

"Not just us," Fleur said. "Zhere are others. One is ze Ministry, which you 'ave seen. Highly ineffective and cowardly. Anozzer is Voldemort. 'E, like so many dark beings before 'im, does not like ze non-magical world. Ze Ministry had denied his return for a bit, but with ze ones zat did gone, it will be... accepted soon."

The Prime Minister nodded, looking grave. He had heard about the man before.

"Zen zere ees Albus Dumblydorr," continued the witch. "'E is a powerful wizard and 'as good intentions, but 'e talks more zen acts."

"And then there's you. Your group," the Minister stated.

Fleur nodded, "Yes. We are not perfect, but we seek to improve zings. Our world is not as... open-minded as yours."

There was pain of experience in her eyes and the Prime Minister, though he was no wizard, was not a fool. He adjusted his tie and glasses before sipping at tea.

"So why are you here?" He asked finally.

"Our leader wanted to inform you of ze situation," Fleur answered. "'E zhought zat you could 'elp or at least _know_ ze actual facts behind some odd events. And... 'e 'as great respect for ze Muggle world. 'E was raised in it and will be using zhings from it. We are equals. It is why 'e sent me. If you 'ave any questions, I will attempt to answer zem."

The Prime Minister blinked a few times, thinking as he sipped the tea. The young woman in front of him was not acting anything like Fudge had the few times he had paid a visit. He was, after all, the Prime Minister and did not appreciate being made to feel like an ignorant schoolboy.

The young woman in front of him had not come through the fireplace or anything. She was not presuming anything from this meeting... and she had been respectful all of this time. But she had not visited before. He sipped more tea, nodding. The others must have been fighting long before this new leader. And yet, the Prime Minister could not help but be interested in whomever had first thought of him to be informed as...

Well, as an equal.

He chuckled, "Your side seems to be the wild card in this. I will keep an eye on news stories and ensure that you're welcome here anytime."

"Zhank you, sir," Fleur said, shaking his hand. "Might we keep zis meeting... between us?"

"Of course. Thank you, for the tea and information."

Fleur smiled, a beautiful radiant one that had the man across from her looking away. "You are vairy welcome, sir. I shall come back anozzer time to keep you up to date."

"Thank you, again."

She stood and paused, "May I apparate, sir?"

"Apparate?" The Prime Minister repeated, confusion evident in his voice.

"Ah, I apologize. Zat is a magical way 'o travel. We disappear from where we are and reappear where we would like to be at."

"You mean you vanish from here and then you're somewhere else?" The Prime Minister was surprised.

Fleur smiled and nodded.

"Magic lets you teleport? That's amazing. Why did he always use the fireplace then?"

"Ah, eet is considered rude to Apparate somewhere without warning," Fleur answered.

He nodded, before remembering she had asked a question, "Ah, yes, go on. Thank you."

"You are vairy welcome. And zhank you." With that and a soft popping sound, Fleur was gone, leaving a Prime Minister with a delightful cup of tea and a look of wonder on his face.

She reappeared in her flat, quite pleased as she took off her hat and the wig. She served herself some food and then took out a book on dueling techniques. She would make sure she was ready for this upcoming fight.

The evening passed in this manner until she heard rustling in the guest room and footsteps. She turned from her reading to see Harry standing there with his now empty tray. "Thank you."

She smiled at him, "Eet was my pleasure, 'Arry."

He gave a small, grateful smile and went to put the food away. The brief sleep had done wonders. He felt much better.

"I 'ave an idea," Fleur stated from where she sat.

"What is it?" Harry inquired, washing the dishes in the sink. It was born from a lifetime of habit and it wasn't exactly a bad one, so why change?

"Well... we will be against three enemies," Fleur stated calmly. "Ze Prime Minister was most pleasant." She smiled, remembering the meeting, "'E called our side ze wild card in zis."

Harry paused thoughtfully in his washing of the dishes. The wild card. It had an interesting ring to it.

Fleur continued speaking, "My idea... was 'o 'ave you take ze memory of ze night Dumblydoor and Fudge spoke."

"That's... why would we do that?" Harry asked this as he turned off the sink and faced the quarter-veela witch.

She took a deep breath and told Harry everything she had thought of earlier.

The young man was visibly impressed. "That's brilliant," he said, smiling. "We'll talk to the goblins tomorrow, but I'm sure they'll go for it."

Before Fleur could speak, an owl flew in and went right to Harry. As had become his new habit, he Stunned and Obliviated the small owl before putting it outside. He ran a few spells over the letter and, upon discovering no magic on it, he opened it. There seemed to be two people writing this note, and a long scratch on the page, showing they had fought for the quill.

_Harry,_

_WHERE ARE YOU? I~_

_We're all worried about you. It's not safe to be out there. I know you're hiding because of what happened to your family, but we can keep you safe. Just trust us. I know it had to have been hard keeping your head down and the like, but things have changed. Please let me know you're okay and we'll get you straight away._

-_Snuffles & Remus_

_PS: If you can call that daft git 'Sirius' then you can call me by my given name as well. He's been frantic with worry. Please write soon._

The young man looked over the letter once more before handing it to Fleur.

"What do you want 'o do?" Fleur asked.

Harry gave a smile, "I said it before. We fight. If we have more enemies, then that is not our fault. And if they were so worried, then perhaps they shouldn't have just left me." He stopped and began to laugh, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was bitter and far too old for the teen. "How can they expect me to trust them when they have not earned it?"

Fleur nodded.

"Well," Harry murmured, tossing the letter in the rubbish, "he was right about one thing though. Things _have_ changed." He yawned, shaking his head.

"Perhaps you should get more sleep?" Fleur suggested.

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door. Harry dashed back to the guest room and had returned in disguise far faster than Fleur expected.

"Fleur?" a voice called.

"I'm coming Bill," she called back, looking at Harry with wide-eyes. She wasn't expecting him so soon. He had said he would be busy for a few days.

Harry just nodded, showing it'd be fine. Nervous but managing to look completely normal, Fleur opened the door to reveal the older red-haired wizard.

"Hey, Ragnok said you had moved," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek and blinking at seeing someone else. "Er..."

"Zis is my cousin Henri," Fleur said calmly.

Harry chuckled, "Well, more like our grandmothers were friends and insisted on calling us that. They wanted me to make sure she was 'safe' while she is here. Nice to meet you, Bill Weasley. I'm Henri, but everyone calls me Harry."

The lie flowed rather naturally from both of them, and the two just shared a conspirator's smile.

"Er, yeah, likewise," Bill said, shaking Harry's hand and just thinking the smile was that between two old friends.

"I'm going to get back to sleep," Harry said, giving a smile. "I'll bother you at work tomorrow."

Fleur nodded and Harry watched her and Bill for a moment before returning to his room. That had been close. Very close indeed.

Something would have to be done about such close calls. Bill Weasley didn't know his habits, his mannerisms... but his brothers did. It had been luck this time that Bill hadn't recognized his voice or anything.

Harry knew better than to rely on luck. He just didn't feel like adding to his troubles at the moment. Sighing, he decided the best thing to do right now was to read up more on runes and to use his brain and keep thinking about how to keep the others guessing, to keep them curious, keep throwing them off...

It wouldn't be an easy win.

The teen shook his head at his thoughts. Fleur's idea regarding Dumbledore was a good one. Perhaps that would help things a bit regarding sheer numbers. But then what?

Ah, right. Training. He would have to train alongside those with him, to show all were equal.

Harry suspected he would be very tired in the upcoming days and that he would have to deal with more surprises, but it would be worth it in the end.

Hedwig, as if reading her master's mind, hooted gently and Harry gave her a smile before getting his book on runes and studying more.


	11. Chapter 11

A few hours had passed. Hedwig was outside hunting and Harry was jotting ideas and potential plans down in a notebook with a pencil before tiredly running his hands through his hair... well, the wig. He wasn't sure if Bill Weasley had left, after all.

As if he were really so stupid. He knew why Bill Weasley had returned to England. Voldemort. Dumbledore had a group of people fighting. Meaning that Bill Weasley was in said group.

The group that had never stepped in to help him during his worst times. When he was younger, Harry had wondered if it was fate that had done so much to him, that his parents had been bad and so he suffered. Then he learned the truth about his parents, about magic... and had done so much to try to help so many only to be made out to be this deluded, attention-seeking person who thought he was some great tragic hero.

He had been everyone's favorite whipping boy.

He softly chuckled at the thought. Those who had hurt him before school were gone, and he would never see them again.

Taking his wand and focusing, he put the memory Fleur had mentioned into a vial that was in the room. Fleur was a smart and talented witch. Harry knew he would be wise in listening to her.

The knock on the door was gentle and Harry turned. "Come in."

Bill Weasley entered, making Harry glad he was in disguise. "Hello."

"Hell," Bill said, before he hesitated. "I know it's not my place, but... your business tomorrow..."

Harry merely looked at Bill, waiting.

"I know goblins," said Bill. "I've worked for Gringotts ever since I left Hogwarts. As far as there can be friendship between wizards and goblins, I have goblin friends—or, at least, goblins I know well, and like." Again, Bill hesitated. "What do you want from them, and what have you promised him in return?"

He stared at Bill for a few seconds. "I can't tell you that," said Harry, keeping his voice soft and quiet.

"Then I have to say this," Bill went on. "If you have struck any kind of bargain with a goblin, and most particularly if that bargain involves treasure, you must be exceptionally careful. Goblin notions of ownership, payment, and repayment are not the same as human ones."

"I have taken history classes." Harry hoped that the man would leave. He knew about the bloody history between wizards and goblins.

"Yes, but there is a belief among some goblins, and those at Gringotts are perhaps most prone to it, that wizards cannot be trusted in matters of gold and treasure, that they have no respect for goblin ownership."

Harry nodded. He did respect other beings.

Bill shook his head, "You don't understand, nobody could understand unless they have lived with goblins. To a goblin, the rightful and true master of any object is the maker, not the purchaser. All goblin made objects are, in goblin eyes, rightfully theirs."

Harry said nothing, but Bill continued without prompting.

"Even if it were bought, they would then consider it rented by the one who had paid the money. They have, however, great difficulty with the idea of goblin-made objects passing from wizard to wizard. They believe that objects ought to be returned to the goblins once the original purchaser died. They consider our habit of keeping goblin-made objects, passing them from wizard to wizard without further payment, little more than theft."

Harry nodded, thoughtful. He hadn't known that, not really. Oh he had known due to Fleur, but not to that extent.

"All I am saying," said Bill, setting his hand on the door to leave, "is to be very careful what you promise goblins. It would be less dangerous to break into Gringotts than to renege on a promise to a goblin."

Harry nodded and watched Bill Weasley leave.

Thoughtful, he managed to finish his preparations for the next day and all too soon, it was the next day. He was surprised Fleur had left him breakfast and, remembering how his aunt had used to set dinners early, he prepared some food for their dinner, setting the oven on a very low heat before returning to his room. He looked at the note that he had used a Quik-Quotes quill to write and made sure the vial was okay before packing it up in a small box. Everything was set. He left the flat.

Diagon Alley was bustling, as always, and Harry walked around. He left the package in the Daily Prophet's office, at the front, before leaving to Gringotts. He was quickly shown to Ragnok's office when he requested to see the goblin.

"I'll get to the point," Harry said quietly. "If any humans join, they'll need items as well. You make the best objects in the magical world. I have been told you have issues when humans keep objects."

The elderly goblin gave Harry a long look before nodding, "Yes."

"Why?"

"... Do you know how our objects are made?" When Harry shook his head, the goblin seemed to think for a few moments before standing. "Come with me."

Harry nodded and followed Ragnok through what seemed to be a labyrinth of doors, corridors, and rooms before the area reminded him of the vault area. They continued for a long time before Harry wiped his forehead. It was extremely _hot_.

He soon saw the reason for this. Furnaces, metalsmithing... it was practically a scene from a movie, with how the goblins were making weapons, smelting metal and things of that nature.

But there were older goblins there too, older than Harry really could imagine anyone being. He glanced at Ragnok, who was looking at him.

"When we grow old," the goblin said softly, looking with respect at the very elderly goblins, "we know our time is drawing near. But we do not wish to be useless. And we want to be connected to our family, despite the many years in between. That is why our youth are the makers. Our education comes from the elders teaching the youth." Ragnok watched and continued, "But the elders want to always be useful even after this. And so they... well, observe."

Harry watched as an elder goblin inspected a ring. It was gorgeous, simple but so elegant, the tiny onyx stones looking almost like they were engraved words instead of gems that were placed in. It was a fine piece of work. As Harry watched, the young goblin maker beamed proudly and hugged the elder goblin, who picked up the ring.

The elder placed it over where Harry suspected the heart to be... and there was a heat in the room, hotter than even the furnace, and a flash of light. Harry shut his eyes but when he opened them, the elder goblin was gone.

But there was a sheen to the ring that hadn't been there before, an aura Harry knew hadn't been there before... He looked at Ragnok.

"Yes," the goblin said softly. "Our ancestors are in the objects we create. They wish to help us, to be used and increase our fortunes. And that is why we feel so strongly about having our items returned."

Harry nodded, silent. He could understand why that would be. So how then could others not respect that tradition? Those objects held someone's life essence, someone's... well, soul, in them.

"I don't think the items will be an issue," Harry said quietly. "My next question is if you have any properties that we can train at."

Ragnok nodded and the two left.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Yeah, another note, sorry everyone.**_

**_This chapter is for _LOSTcharlie-claireLOST_, who was kind enough to basically give me a kick to remind me that jumping from fic-to-fic on another genre is not an excuse to neglect this fic and all of you awesome readers/reviewers that like it! Thank you all and I'm sorry about the delay. Though I'm sure that some folks will be sure to wait eagerly for kicking now that you know it works ;)_**

_**Thanks again and please read, review & enjoy!**_

* * *

Harry followed Ragnok back to his office, looking over the property selections that the goblin had thought would work the best. One caught his eye in the options.

"I thought the Isle of Drear was blocked," Harry said, looking over it.

"It's Unplottable, yes, because of the Quintapeds." The goblin turned to Harry. "It thinks humans are tasty. But you'll be fine, I'm sure. They don't bother creatures like us much and they're smart enough to stay away from pain. They're like dragons, their skins are resistant against magic."

"You have dragons here though," Harry said quietly, obviously thinking.

Ragnok nodded, "Sphinxes too." As he spoke, he wondered what the wizard was up to. He had seen that the boy was willing to listen when ideas were good and explain his logic when he had thought of something better.

"Nobody else goes to the island either," Harry said quietly. "It would be good, but how would we get there? Portkeys are closely regulated by the Ministry."

A scoff from the goblin, "We're allowed to have them without any prior notice because of our clients."

Harry smiled. Good. Even if someone learned where they were and attempted to have a surprise movement at the place, the hostile natives would work to Harry's advantage. "Right then. That'd be good then, a place no one else would be able to bother us at. But we will need more allies. Just as we have right now won't really work."

"The veela will be coming shortly," Ragnok said. "You can give the werewolves a try. Giants too. Hags and vampires would probably lend a hand as well." Then the goblin chuckled, "You've got the dementors already."

_Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!_

Harry blinked, the memory of the words all too clear when he thought about it. Madam Maxime and Hagrid were both half-giants. Dumbledore probably sent them there. And the fact that he mentioned Voldemort meant that the dark wizard would attempt to get them as well.

As if it were instinct he stood, wanting beings that traveled fast. He wanted the Dementors. If anyone would scare the giants into obedience, it'd be them. But he wanted them to practice with them.

The atmosphere seemed to grow a tiny bit colder and the teenager looked up to see a Dementor. He didn't even want to ask how it knew he had wanted to tell them something. "We'll be at the Isle of Drear for training," he informed it matter-of-factly. "Also, I want some of you to go to the giants. Inform them that we expect their assistance."

Ragnok nodded approval; giants were very violent but obeyed the Gurg, their leader. If the boy showed he was stronger than the Gurg, showed he was just as capable of doing what he needed to get his way, then he knew the giants would listen.

The Dementor bowed to Harry and was gone. He looked at the goblin, "You'll be all right with moving the things we'll need to the isle?"

"Yes." Ragnok looked at Harry, "Another thing."

Harry turned, raising an eyebrow in question.

"We can bring them here, contact them. The other beings I mean, besides the giants."

A rare smile appeared on the boy's face. "Oh, that is brilliant."

"I'll get on it, then," Ragnok said.

"Thank you. I'll go let Fleur know." Harry stood up and found her organizing some files for tax purposes.

"'Ello, 'Arry," she said, smiling.

"Hey," Harry said, looking around. No one was there. "We have a location."

The half-veela looked very interested as Harry quickly and quietly caught her up with what was going on and what he was going to do.

"Zat sounds wise," she said, nodding. She would pass this news quickly to the Veela that would be helping them. "'Ave you read ze news?"

"No, I haven't. Has something happened?" Harry looked far more calm than most people in his position would be, Fleur knew that much, and the half-veela witch realized with a jolt that she really did have more faith in this boy than any of the other options to fight for that existed. He just _radiated_ the sheer ability to do the impossible, even if he didn't know it. He radiated the extraordinary within the ordinary, and how people could miss it, she really had no idea.

"Zere is a new Minister of Magic," Fleur confirmed.

"I haven't heard," Harry said quietly. thoughtfully, "But I'll be sure to take a look." He went to leave and paused, "We should tell the Prime Minister we'll be near Scotland, shouldn't we?"

Fleur smiled, "I shall be sure and catch 'im up."

"Thank you, Fleur. I appreciate everything you have done, and words can't state that enough." The words were said with meaning, not just something to brush off, Harry looking directly at her. "But I'm afraid I will ask much more of you in the days to come."

"And I shall be 'onored to give it," Fleur answered, just as serious as the young man in front of her.

Harry gave her a faint smile, the gratitude obvious in it, and then he left the bank, thinking over what had happened thus far in the summer. He would have allies soon. Then he would find Voldemort. He thought of where the dark lord could be before he stood up. His name had been Tom Marvolo Riddle, hadn't it? And he had lived in an orphanage. Harry was sure there were no magical orphanages, the world was pathetically insensitive to needs that would be common sense to their Muggle counterparts. Look at the Weasleys; what would have happened if they could not afford Hogwarts? Harry had only learned of other options the year before, and even those options were out of the country.

It was a rather good question. And things were beginning to move forward. As he walked through Diagon Alley, after buying a newspaper, Harry's thoughts raced. That was the problem. People in their world lived so long that they didn't see the point of progress. And they did everything they could to not listen to those who had been exposed to the different society all of their lives, chiding them for their bloodline, of all things.

He had gotten rid of some people that thought that way, but that wouldn't do it. You had to target the root of the problem. The root of the problem was the society. Change the views and you could change the world.

He would get rid of the walls. He would show that wizards and witches could be beaten by the beings they ignored or snubbed. And then after that, he would make them work together. He would force Hogwarts to accept _all_ beings, not just witches and wizards. Why should someone like Lupin have been denied their education? Why should goblins be denied the _option_ of even attending?

He went to the flat to pack. He would be busy for the next few weeks training.

But as he packed, he had a thought that made him pause for a brief moment. He was thinking ahead, yes, thinking of fights and the like. But he knew Voldemort was there... he had seen the dark wizard return.

Earlier in the summer, his scar had bothered him incessantly.

So why hadn't it twinged in days? Why hadn't it bothered him since he had left?

Curious. He would think about it when he was on the isle with the others. For now, he had to continue lying low. Perhaps that was what Voldemort was doing, which would make sense after the attacks on his followers, but Dumbledore had no reason for that excuse. At least not now, not with Amelia Bones as the new Minister of Magic.

He would have to bide his time. Patience was a virtue, after all. Madam Bones would not be a pushover. He could tell that much from her record.

Harry Potter stretched and began to think ahead, for what he wanted and how he would get there. He would wait for word back from the people he sent out to contact others. And then he would go to the Isle of Drear himself, to assist. The goblins would ensure all of the weapons would be there, as well as a training spot.

All he had to do now was pack and wait. The packing took a few minutes, the waiting, however, took longer. It wasn't until a few hours later that Fleur returned to the flat, Harry having cooked dinner.

"I informed ze Prime Minister," she informed Harry as she entered. "'E is grateful zat we 'ave told 'im where we will be near and 'e will attempt to 'elp us if anyzhing 'appens near zere." She smiled once more, "And my grandmuzzer 'as informed all of zhose zat she knows. Zhey will be joining us at Drear."

"Perfect," Harry said, standing, obviously ready to go. "When you're ready, we'll head out. Though I'd prefer to eat first, if that's okay with you."

Fleur nodded and soon, the two friends were sitting at the table in the flat, enjoying dinner, when there was a knock on the door.

"I let Bill know zat I am busy," Fleur said, confused as she turned to face the door.

"I'll get it," Harry said calmly. He opened the door and blinked a few times at the person there.

Standing in the doorway was the one and only Alastor Moody.

Oh _joy._


	13. Chapter 13

The grizzled ex-Auror was looking at Harry from the doorway. There wasn't really much to think. Harry knew about the magical eye, everyone did, it was fairly obvious.

And yet... he hadn't used a spell or anything. The eye couldn't look through _everything_, could it? That'd just really make him uncomfortable, since theoretically that included clothing too. Then again, he had seen that the eye could look through the back of heads and through desks, so why not clothing?

But then again, by that logic, if everyone knew that magical eyes could see everything, why didn't they just have someone with magical eyes look at left forearms? Harry wasn't a complete idiot, he could understand why showing the arms would be considered controversial. Asking someone to lift their sleeves was the equivalent of asking them to strip in some parts of the magical world.

But asking someone, as part of guard duty, to look at it through the sleeve with a magical eye? If the Ministry had done that though, Harry never would have been able to get in and do what had needed to be done.

"Hi?" Harry asked more than said, looking back at Fleur, who had stood up and was approaching the door.

Moody was giving him the strangest look and Harry wondered if he had finally been caught.

"Potter?"

Yep. Caught. Brilliant.

Fleur's wand was already out and before she could react, she was disarmed. Moody was holding her wand. "Right then," he said, walking inside, making both of the younger ones share looks. "I was sent here to invite you to join something, missy," Moody said, looking at Fleur before continuing, "but I think I have more questions than answers." This was said with a jerk of a thumb towards Harry.

They shared looks, knowing that Alastor Moody, who had been able to take down countless people, would be a huge threat and more than capable of beating them in a duel, since it'd just be him and Harry.

Moody was behind them as they sat. He remained standing.

"Right," the older man said, looking between the two. "Let's hear it then."

Between the two, they brought him up to date.

Alastor Moody was, to say the least, stunned. His eye was whirling to the point where it made Fleur dizzy to look at it. Harry just sat patiently.

"So you've killed people."

"Yes."

"You're making a side in a war."

"Yes." Harry repeated, looking at the former Auror.

"Even though your friends and everyone that knows you is worried sick because they can't find you?"

Irritation found its way onto Harry's face and he stood, "You too, then? I'm everyone's favorite whipping boy, sir. Always have been. That pathetic excuse of a family hated me. My friends are allowed to know far more than I despite the fact that _I_ was slandered, that _I_ did more than them? Perhaps you might be used to slander, knowing that people think you practically mad due to your rather justified paranoia. Paranoia, mind you, wouldn't be as prevalent if you knew the scum that you fought went to prison. But they didn't."

"We need change, Monsieur," Fleur said it quietly, making Moody's magical eye turn towards her. The witch looked more radiant than usual, "Surely even you see zat."

"Like this? With murder?"

Harry slammed down his hand, making both of the others look over. "What difference does it make, sir? Why is okay for everyone to gear up for Voldemort to be killed but anyone else is murder?"

"That's not what-!"

"The only difference is intent! For goodness sakes, I just want to make things better! You wanted to as well, and you were stopped, weren't you? Do you know why? _Politics! _People talk and in the end nothing gets done!"

It was as if something changed in that moment. What it was, the three didn't know, but they felt it.

"I don't like it." Moody's voice left no room for compromise.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "That's it then? Nothing to the contrary, what you say is it?"

Moody breathed deeply a few times. "No, Potter, that's not it. I want to know what you're doing. I want to make sure it really is the right thing, that you're not going too far into that abyss in trying to stop them. You don't want to become what you fight."

"'Ow can we trust you?" Fleur asked, looking at the ex-Auror.

Moody just raised an eyebrow at her.

She didn't back away, "An Unbreakable Vow, zat you will keep zis quiet."

Harry wisely kept his silence.

The ex-Auror just looked back and forth for a few seconds before he muttered, "We must all hang together.."

"Or most assuredly we shall all hang separately," Harry answered. "You agree, don't you? You like what we're doing, but you don't want to admit it."

Moody just held up his hand and soon, he was bound in an Unbreakable Vow. Fleur relaxed when he returned her wand and both looked at Harry.

"I won't kill anyone that I consider a friend," Moody answered. "And if there's another way, I take it."

"I'm not Voldemort," Harry retorted. "I don't thrive on it. But when it's necessary, I'm not going to shy away from what needs to be done just because some people are squeamish about it."

The older man turned to leave.

"We'll be training at the Isle of Drear," Harry said, making Moody pause. "If you can't Apparate there, someone at Gringotts can help you."

Moody nodded and looked Harry up and down. "One last thing, before you run into this madness and don't turn back."

Harry just raised an eyebrow.

"Write to Sirius. He's been worried sick. You don't have to tell him everything, just let him know you're all right." He turned to leave and said, "See you tomorrow, then." He left the flat, Fleur looking at Harry worriedly.

"Do you zhink zat ze ozher group will 'elp?"

"No," Harry said quietly. "I think some people in it will, but by and large... I think we have to rely on ourselves. I'm just glad Moody saw sense. He will be an excellent asset, and I am very relieved we won't be facing him. Right, let's finish eating and start doing some research, shall we?"

Fleur nodded and the two did just that, both wondering how the Isle of Drear would look with all of the various beings that would be there... and if they would listen.

Only the next day could answer that question.


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

Harry was up with the gray light of dawn. He moved as if in a daze, his body knowing what to do with his morning ritual, his mind far away, planning even as he showered.

The Ministry was full of ineffective fools that did not listen or care for its people.

Voldemort was the dark wizard who killed people due to blood status.

Dumbledore seemed to want to keep the status quo and stop maniacs.

But that, Harry knew, seemed to be as far as the Headmaster would go.

Albus Dumbledore had influence and power but did not use it. As a result, people like Fudge had control. People like Voldemort had control.

Harry Potter had been raised in the Muggle world. All of his life, he had been told he was an ungrateful freak. He had been lied to about his parents. Had been bullied by others. The community lied to about him too...

"_That Potter boy is a hardened hooligan and attends St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys..."_

The cold inside him filled him at these thoughts and memories.

Yes. He understood how the goblins and Veela and countless others must feel. To never be equal. To be called monsters and freaks, to never _ever_ be believed.

The world had never been fair to Harry Potter. Neither world had been. Look at what the magical world had made him resort to, after all, when he had tried to help them, had tried to do the right thing.

This was the result.

No one had listened. He had acted, doing what others had not dared, and he was being condemned for it by people he had once admired.

He left the shower and was soon ready for the day. He walked with Fleur to Gringotts, quiet. It was all instinct. He was not really aware of anything, lost in his thoughts even as the portkey activated, sending him to the Isle of Drear in a whirlwind of sound and color.

Where they landed was the ruins of a town. There was a cold wind and rain was falling, making them drenched rather quickly. Once fine buildings and cobbled roads that reminded Harry instantly of Diagon Alley were overgrown with plants. The buildings were long defeated by nature, leaving only the cracked stones that made the foundations. He turned, seeing the rubble of an old castle down the end of the overgrown and cracked cobblestone path.

"Bah," Ragnok said, glowering at everything around them. The goblins nodded in agreement.

The sound made something rustle in the ruins. A beast with five legs, each ending in a clubfoot, and is covered with thick, red-brown hair.

"Oh this is lovely," Harry murmured as more beasts appeared. "Quintapeds." As the creatures rushed, Harry attempted a spell. It didn't work. The beast, much like a dragon, obviously had some sort of magical resistance.

He frowned and moved a bit away, running and climbing the ruins of a building. The area was clear. Fleur had Apparated to the top of a ruin too and the goblins were attempting to fight with axes and swords.

Harry took out his rifle and quickly prepared it, steadying himself. He was calm. There. He shot and a quintaped fell. The young man calmly aimed for another one of the beasts and fired. He continued this, and between his shooting and the Goblins fighting, the quintapeds that had rushed in to devour them were gone or fleeing.

Ragnok looked back to see the young wizard with his strange weapon. He had seen some of the quintaped fall. He had thought the wizard had left them, but the goblin saw now that wasn't the case. The wizard had needed space to use his weapon.

He was a fighter.

Not like those dark wizards, who only took and wanted aid but would not assist them.

Not like the light wizards, who wanted aid but would not speak up for them.

Harry Potter was _different._ He didn't just speak about allies and acceptance. He _acted_ on it. He, like the goblins, had not used magic on these creatures.

He was an equal. He fought with them, without and with magic.

Any doubts about the side Ragnok had chosen for his people faded.

Others began to arrive as Harry returned to the group. The Dementors were there, the Veela were too. But others had shown up on this dark, dreary day, others Harry had not seen or spoken to, therefore had not expected.

Vampires, obvious by how pale they were and how hidden they kept every bit of their skin, even having smoked spectacles for their eyes. It was interesting, Harry noted: they wore all white. He knew vampires were famed for wearing black but, now that he thought of it, dark colors were known for attracting sunlight. White would reflect the sun. Even on a dreary day, the sun was still there, behind the clouds.

Hags, who looked around with glee at the dead beasts. They were rather gruesome to look at, and Harry could see that some of their long fingernails really could be called talons instead. And under those nails and on the rags they called clothes, he knew that it wasn't just dirt, but blood.

Trolls, huge massive creatures each holding a blunt weapon and grunting. For a moment, Harry was reminded of his cousin and the boy's gang. That wasn't exactly a lovely thought.

All of these non-human beings were looking directly at Harry.

"This is him, then?" one of the vampires inquired, looking at Ragnok. "The wizard?"

"Yes," Ragnok replied. "This is Harry Potter-"

"Harry Potter," the vampire said politely. "I am Vlad Drakul."

Harry moved forward to shake the vampire's hand, who accepted it. "I am honored to meet such a legend," Harry said politely.

"As am I," the vampire replied, amusement evident in the voice.

The young wizard moved from being to being, shaking their hands and even grunting loudly to get the trolls' attention to greet them.

A crack sounded, revealing Alastor Moody, who looked around, silent. Fleur made sure to move near him, obviously keeping an eye on him.

"We are here," Harry said calmly, ignoring the rain drenching them, ignoring the ruins and the loud wind, "because we have no one. Because we are sick and tired of being sick and tired. We are the outcast. The freaks. The monsters. When we speak, we are ignored or scoffed at."

Grunts and nods of agreement. No one disputed this.

Even Moody seemed to agree.

"But to change things, there must be trust. I must be able to trust all of you to control your natures and you must trust me, a wizard and not of age. It is a lot to ask of everyone, but we are all the same here."

The young man turned, seeming to look everyone in the eye as he did so, as he spoke, "We will be fighting Voldemort. And then, from the response my actions have gotten, we will be facing the Ministry and possibly even Albus Dumbledore."

Silence for a long time followed that statement before everyone turned, weapons and hands pointed at newcomers.

Newcomers that Harry had _not_ been expecting.

The frizzy brown hair, the warm brown eyes that shone with intelligence. Someone Harry knew would obey authority. But why was Hermione Granger there, standing there in the rain, looking at him?

And with her, a very familiar young man who seemed, like Harry, to have the somewhat unhealthy look of having grown in a short amount of time, who had shed the roundness he had been so well known for, his warm eyes focused on Harry's.

"Professor Moody told us you'd be here," he said, not looking away from Harry.

Harry looked towards the ex-Auror, not showing his confusion before turning back to the other wizard. Why had Moody told him but not Ron Weasley?

"Here I am," Harry confirmed, staring at them.

"Harry..." Hermione looked pained.

"Are you going to attempt to stop me, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking at the most intelligent witch he knew. "Going to tell us how _wrong_ we are for trying to change an indifferent world? For taking action when no one else will?"

"N-No..." Hermione said quietly, shaking from the cold and the rain.

Harry turned to the other wizard. He was curious. Very curious. The other boy did not look nervous like Hermione. He did not look resigned like Moody.

He looked... determined.

It was a familiar look, one Harry had seen in the mirror.

"... Why did you come here, Neville?" Harry asked, quietly, somehow heard over the rain and wind.

The other boy was silent for a while, looking away, obviously thinking before looking back at Harry. "Twelve years ago, Death Eaters came into my home and, using the Cruciactus Curse, tortured my parents into insanity."

Hermione gasped softly while no one else reacted except to fixate on Neville as he spoke.

"For years," Neville said quietly, "I was told I would be nothing. A Squib. Even at Hogwarts, it continued with scum like Malfoy encouraging it. And you stopped it. Stopped them. And you are changing things." The boy looked directly at Harry, "No one is worthless to you. You need the assistance. And you'll ensure what happened to us... will never happen again."

He was right. Harry could use another wizard. This was simple fact and logic and his past...

It was easy to see why Moody had selected him, despite Neville Longbottom being known for being clumsy.

Harry looked at Hermione, "And you?" He asked.

"We're friends," Hermione said, wiping at her face. Rain or tears, Harry did not know. "And... and with how Muggleborns are treated... my parents could have been killed, Harry. What if the Dementors had been sent to us? And the Order... the Ministry... no one would have done anything."

It was very true as well.

"And you need all the help you can get," the girl said quietly, swallowing hard, looking resolute. "I... I made my parents forget me. I'll be able to stay indefinitely."

"And Moody covered for me with my grandmother," Neville said calmly.

"We may have to kill people we know," Harry said.

Hermione wrung her hands at the hem of her shirt.

Neville nodded solemnly. "Yes. But you tried all summer, Harry. You and Dumbledore did try to do the right thing. And got insulted. You tried to stop Death Eaters and now the papers are slandering you more." The boy looked all around, "I don't want anyone to be scoffed at for being worthless anymore and have problems ignored. We tried the right way. It failed."

Harry nodded.

"So you're doing all that we can do," Neville said. "You're the only logical choice. For all of us. For anyone who has ever been an outcast or worthless or ignored..."

And then Harry's best friend, the most brilliant witch of their generation, spoke up bravely, holding her head high, and those words became the foundation of everything. Ten words that summarized everything for Harry, ten words that even the trolls understood.

Ten words that told all gathered there that they had just committed to a war, had just made a new side that would be fighting together against any enemy, be it Ministry or Order.

"_If I cannot move heaven, then I will raise hell."_

The words rang clearly and seared themselves into everyone's minds.

Harry waved his friends over and after charms were cast to keep away the rain and dry them off, plans began to be made. Plans to rebuild the village on the Isle of Drear. Plans to have the goblins make weapons like what Harry had. Plans to storm the Ministry, to take down the Wizengamot and any who would stand in their way.

Plans to make education available to all beings, to destroy the biased laws.

Plans to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

The Revolution began to be planned on a rainy summer day on the Isle of Drear and after a few hours, they immediately moved to begin to repair the village, using magic and non-magic techniques to move as quick as possible.

And while they did this, Ragnok gave the orders for the weapons to be built. All was running smoothly... for now.

But Harry knew better than to count his chickens before they hatched. Preparation and training was one thing, but actual conflict would be something entirely different.

It was odd though. With Moody helping, with beings there showing they could work together and two of his friends who, like Fleur, agreed with him...

Harry knew war was brewing, knew he would be insanely busy, knew he would be insulted and hated but despite all of that, right now, he felt almost... happy.

He pushed the thought aside and continued to work on repairing the village.


End file.
